Seven Are Your Burning Fires
by oh.brodacious
Summary: "Peter Pan needed more time, the irony of which was not wasted on him. The famed legend, a boy who would never grow old, who had essentially all of the time in the world, needed more of it." Emma & the others are drawing closer, and Pan hasn't convinced the truest believer to give up his heart. He unleashes an old curse, infecting them with the Seven Deadly Sins as a distraction.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One**

A/N: Hi there!

Just a little something I had floating around in my head, sorry if it's a bit rushed, I wanted to put it up before the next episode completely derails my thought process. I'm being a liberal with how well it sticks to canon but it is set before Dark Hollow. Basically, they've freed Neal, but Regina is still with them (mostly because I needed a seventh member to the group, for obvious reasons) Pan hasn't taken Henry to Wendy yet though I'm implying that it's happening at this time.

It will probably be two or three chapters, not too sure how I'm going to finish it.

Mostly I wanted a little bit of fluff and smut and harmless Nevengers fun before we get to the seriousness of saving Henry. Definitely CaptainSwan, with a taste of SwanQueen because it's my guilty pleasure.

Rated M for the next chapter so this one is a T for language.

The title is from the song Moonchild By Iron Maiden

Hope you enjoy!

_Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine._

* * *

Peter Pan needed more time, the irony of which was not wasted on him. The famed legend, a boy who would never grow old, who had essentially all the time in the world, needed more of it. If only they knew the truth. Time was an illusion that was quickly running out

Henry was proving to be more difficult than he had first envisioned. The boy was undeniably stubborn, and it was taking him longer to put his plan into action. What precious time he had left was being cut shorter by the approaching rescue party. The Swan girl and her companions were drawing dangerously close, and he had been disappointed with how quickly they had found Baelfire. That particular distraction was supposed to have taken _much _longer.

But he had seriously miscalculated Hook. Pan had thought that the pirate would have kept the information to himself, at least for longer than he did. He had expected him to toss and turn, worry whether he should share what he knew. Mostly he had hoped that Hook would be selfish for a spell, at least until this new honest streak that was becoming more prominent won out and he finally spoke up. But that should have been a while from now, diverting them from their current rescue mission with the distraction of another at the last minute. Allowing him the extra time he needed to convince the boy.

What he had not expected was for Hook to walk straight back to their little camp, minutes after learning of Baelfire's survival and telling them what he knew. His one-handed pirate with a drinking problem was becoming increasingly, and worryingly, noble. They had found and freed the Dark One's son mere _hours_ after Pan had visited Hook.

Luckily for him, his new distraction was going to be much more effective.

Pan circled their little camp, sticking to the shadows at the edge of the small clearing. They were all sleeping, spread out around the dying embers of the campfire. Snow and Charming were curled up together, the pair of them the closest to the waning warmth. Regina was directly across from them, further from the fire under a small lean-to. Hook, Tinkerbelle and Baelfire were also sleeping soundly evenly spaced in an arc between them.

The pirate, the pixie and the thief. They all had betrayed him, and they all would pay in time. But right now he had to focus; once he had the heart of the truest believer there would be nothing in any realm that could stop him.

He stopped walking, hidden in the shadow of a large tree.

She was separate from the group, furthest from the fire. Pan paused staring down at her sleeping form. She was lying on her side, one arm draped across her stomach, the other hand clenched in a fist near her face. Her hair was splayed out in a fan around her, glowing silvery white in the moon. Her face was screwed up in a scowl, occasionally her head would jerk to the side and her frown deepened as if she were hearing something in the distance. Bad dreams for the Swan girl.

Circling her slowly he wondered for what felt like the thousandth time what was so intriguing about her. He had been alive for hundreds of years and never had someone captured his interest so dangerously. She bore the unmistakeable signs of abandonment, he knew the second he laid eyes on her that she was lost. And the lost belonged to him, were ruled by him. Yet she had the hard built walls of a survivor, a strength that challenged him. She was resilient, and breaking her would take time, which he had already established he was in short supply of.

For now he needed her distracted, all of them.

Stepping back from their camp into the trees he began climbing until we was well above them. He pulled the pouch from inside of his tunic, carefully opening the flap. It was ancient, much older than him and made from a leather that was once dark but had long since faded. An intricate design was tooled around the edges, words inscribed in Latin surrounded by symbols and shapes he had lost interest in deciphering decades ago.

A dark glittering powder fell from the pouch as he turned it over, hanging in the air like thick smoke, spreading out over the tiny clearing. It swirled and spun, as if directed by a breeze, until it hovered above each of their sleeping forms. After a moment's pause the powder fell, sinking into their bodies causing them to glow for a moment before extinguishing suddenly.

Smiling to himself he climbed down from his perch, turning back in the direction he came.

The particular curse he had unleashed was powerful acting fast before settling in for a slow burn. He did not want her dead, though to be honest the rest of them he could care less. Though he had no control over the effects, if he could have chosen, he knew which symptoms he would inflict upon each of them. However all he could do now was allow the curse to run its course. He was confident that they would find his favourite imp and he would fix it, but it would take time.

Time he now had to spare.

* * *

Emma woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and breathing heavily. Her eyes darted around the clearing as if trying to find what had disturbed her. Seeing and hearing nothing she let out a small breath, trying to regulate her heartbeat as she frowned.

She was used to being woken suddenly, years in the system and on the streets had instilled a heavy survival instinct in her where even the smallest disturbance could wake her from a deep sleep. Living with Mary Margaret,

Snow White… her _mother_… whatever, had been difficult at first. The petite schoolteacher/warrior princess talked in her sleep and Emma had spent half of her nights jerking back into consciousness at every nonsensical outcry.

After a while she had learned to tune it out. But now, thanks to the stint in the Enchanted Forest and their extended stay in Neverland (home of sociopathic adolescents, plants that tried to eat you, and disembodied cries of lost children) she was on red alert, barely getting an hour of uninterrupted sleep at a time.

What she was not used to was being woken for no apparent reason. She glanced around their campsite, far enough away from the others that she could easily keep them all in her line of sight. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the clearing. The sun was starting to rise, allowing enough light to search for shapes that didn't belong amongst the shadows of the trees. Seeing nothing she let out a sigh, leaning back and resting on her hands, allowing her head to flop backwards.

Everyone else was still asleep; though not for long if the sun was almost up. Hook was usually the first to rise, years at sea training his body to wake just before the sun cleared the horizon. At the thought of him an image flashed through her mind, vivid and loud and _holy shit._

She glanced in his direction, heat rushing to her face as she thanked whatever deity was in vogue this week that he was still sound asleep and could not see her blush. If he saw her blush he would want to know why, and his ego did not need to know that she had been dreaming about him.

Her eyes darted back over to his sleeping form only to find that he was beginning to stir. _Like goddamn clockwork._

Jumping to her feet she quickly looked around for something to do so that he did not catch her staring at him. Noting that no one else was waking she cursed under her breath realising that she had nothing. Out of the corner of her eye she could see he was sitting up and rubbing sleep from his eyes with his good hand. She bent to grab her boots, pulling them on slowly like she had not noticed him.

"You're up awfully early this morning love," he spoke quietly.

She straightened to face him, starting when she realised how close he'd managed to get while she was pretending he wasn't there. He was inches from her, all stubble and smirks and those impossibly blue eyes boring into her like they could see right through. Not that it was unusual, he was never one for respecting people's personal space, but she was startled none the less. Even more so when a flash of heat shot through her, pooling low in her gut.

Emma staggered backwards a step, shocked and a little horrified at the sudden surge of desire. _What the hell was going on with her?_

"Lots to do," she spoke shortly, shaking her head. "We should wake the others."

She turned away from him, running a hand through her hair. It was just an aftermath of the dream, she reasoned. Nothing more. And it most definitely had nothing to do with the fact that she had kissed him the other night. Nothing whatsoever. At all. Nope.

Hormones and denial, what a way to start the day.

Shaking her head Emma crouched down and gently shook David's shoulder. He blinked slowly up at her, his arm reflexively tightening around Mary Margaret's waist.

"Time to get up," she said shortly, not wanting to hover.

Things were awkward between her and her parents at the moment. After her "lost girl" revelation to get the map to work Snow had been trying to act like her mother. Emma hadn't been ready for making the jump from solitary bail-bonds-person to saviour princess surrounded by family in one step. She needed baby steps.

In Storybrooke at least there had been things going on to distract them, so that she could work out this confusing progression of family in her own way. Of course in Neverland it was the sole focus of their trip apparently. Never mind that they were here for Henry. It seemed that at every turn somebody had something to say on the subject, and she blamed Pan for that. He had started the trouble with the stupid map and made it worse with the Echo cave fiasco.

Snow had been so preoccupied with trying to be her mother, on focusing on what they had missed out on, that she forgot that she was already her friend. Emma had admitted as much to her before the curse had broken. She was the first real friend she had ever had, and she would rather start with that relationship and work from there.

Hook had managed to rouse Tinkerbelle and was currently trying to wake Regina who appeared was being stubborn. Emma sighed and walked over to Neal, hesitating a moment before she shook him awake. He sat up suddenly, grabbing her wrist and jerking her forward until they were a few inches apart. She let out a small breath, only just managing to stay upright, crouching down as she was.

There was a tense moment where she was caught in his gaze, his eyes blazing. He blinked several times seeming to recognise her before letting her go. He'd been like this since they had freed him from the cave, jumpy and a little more hostile. He'd stare at whoever was speaking, as if taking a moment to realise that yes, they were actually there and not just some figment of his imagination he should be trying to ignore.

She could only imagine what it would have been like, not only being trapped in there alone, but on this island, with no way out, without hope. Again. But she also tried not to, she was not ready to talk to Neal about much of anything save for Henry. Now was not the place to get into their complicated histories, she was not ready to open that can of worms. Her body, it seemed, had other ideas.

Her skin burned where he had been touching her and she was practically thrumming with energy. _What the actual fuck?_ First Hook and now Neal.

Shaking her head slightly she waved off his apology and went to join the others for their usual breakfast of unnamed fruits (Hook's made-up ones did not count). She was no longer very hungry, rolling the large orange fruit between her hands and trying not to look at anyone. There was a strange tingling working its way through her body, not unlike pins and needles, causing her skin to itch. It had begun when Neal touched her and was slowly growing stronger.

"Are you going to eat that?" David's voice startled her, she hadn't heard him approach.

She silently handed it over to him frowning as he snatched it from her hands and bit into it like he hadn't eaten in days.

"Hungry?" her eyebrows quirked up.

"Not really,' he shrugged, finishing the last of it and tossing the pip into the fire pit.

His eyes darted around the others, watching them eat. Shaking her head she climbed to her feet.

They usually packed up the camp fairly quickly, they didn't have much with them and they had been doing it for long enough. Every day had become almost depressingly routine. Get up, eat, clear the camp, walk for endless hours looking for any sign of Henry (usually trying not to be killed by any number of the dangers Neverland had to offer, see: sociopathic teenagers, carnivorous plants), set up camp, sleep, rinse, and repeat.

They had been doing enough of this that they didn't need to talk. But then again just because they didn't _need_ to didn't mean that they didn't. First it had been Regina, complaining that she tired and needed to sleep for longer, then David wanted even more to eat, then Tinkerbelle complained that if David got more she should have more and Neal joined in on a similar vein. Hook stood on the edge of the clearing, slightly away from the group and idly filing his namesake with a bored expression, occasionally rolling his eyes as if he were above such trivialities. Mary Margaret was close to yelling, her face slowly reddening. Emma was trying to calm the situation down, though telling everyone they were being idiotic didn't seem to be working.

Honestly she was too busy trying not to look at Hook to be putting a lot of effort in.

"This is ridiculous!" yelled Regina, throwing her hands up in the air. "I'm going to take a nap until you sort out who deserves the most to eat."

And with that she stormed off, unrolling her mat with a flourish and collapsing onto it, letting out an almost obscene groan of contentment.

Emma felt the now alarmingly familiar flash of heat shoot through her at the sound and actually caught herself moving towards Regina. _What the actual fuck?_ Something was going on, something was definitely going on because Hook she could understand, even Neal if she was being perfectly honest, but Regina? She was having a breakdown. Something along the lines of a psychotic snap after all of the hell she had been through in the last few weeks (Jesus, had it only been a few weeks since she'd fallen through Jefferson's hat?) and it was manifesting as some bizarre attraction to everyone in sight. Hook, Neal, Regina, had Tinkerbelle's hair always looked that soft? There was no other explanation.

She turned to face the others. Mary Margaret who usually spouted the benefits of cooperation and reasoning was shouting and raging; David fighting with Tinkerbelle over the last of the breakfast fruits and Neal glaring at them.

The group fought frequently that was for sure, but usually over important things: their plans for the day, how they were best going to try to find Henry. But this was different, this was petty and stupid and so unlike any of them. It was similar to when they had first arrived in Neverland, when the mermaid had cursed them.

"Emma what are you doing?"

The sound of Neal's voice snapped her out of her musings. She was standing in front of Tinkerbelle, closer than she usually stood, barely a few inches between them as the blonde pixie stared at her, with no memory of moving. She'd been distracted by her thoughts, not that they seemed very important anymore, what had she even been thinking about?

"What?" she asked, not understanding the question.

Her hand moved, reaching out and tucking a curl of hair behind her ear before cupping the side of Tink's face. The second her hand made contact with skin the tingling stopped and she let out an audible sigh as relief washed over her. It was like being slowly submerged in warm water, soothing the itching, burning sensation on her skin and heating her pleasantly from the inside. She found herself staring at the startled looking pixie her eyes darting to her lips.

"What are you doing?" growled Neal again, grabbing the back of her shirt and pulling her forcibly away from Tinkerbelle.

The second her skin broke contact a hollow ache started in her chest and the tingling returned tenfold. She was breathing a little heavily and all eyes were on her. She turned to look at Neal, who was staring at her incredulously, but there was an undercurrent of anger boiling beneath the surface, his hand moving from her shirt to her shoulder, filling her with the comforting warmth once again.

She couldn't take much more of this, being slapped around by her hormones was driving her mad. She knew if she could just touch someone the burning would stop, but Neal's hand on her arm didn't seem to be enough, she wanted to press against him, to feel every inch.

Her eyes found his, still staring at her angrily and she frowned as she recognised its source. Neal was jealous. Jealous that she had almost – _oh dear God she had almost kissed Tinkerbelle._

"Something's going on," she said, shaking her head as she pulled out of Neal's grip, finally coming to her senses.

Balling her hands into fists she focused on the pain of her nails digging into her skin; trying to ground herself and ignore the aching need to _touch someone_.

"That is an understatement," snarled Neal stepping closer, the jealous anger still flaring in him.

"Hey!" yelled Mary Margaret joining the fun. "Take another step and so help me god I will cut your hand off."

"Still wouldn't increase your chances," taunted Hook from the edge of the group. "Though I am told imitation is the highest form of flattery."

"I don't know what we are arguing about!" yelled David. "We should be splitting up to search for more food!"

"No!" cried Tinkerbelle. "If we split up how can I trust you will return all of your spoils? _I _should get the most of everything, I'm the one risking my life infiltrating Pan's camp!"

"Will you all shut up?!" Regina called over. "Some of us are trying to rest!"

There was an increase in volume as everyone argued, Hook occasionally throwing in a sarcastic comment and looking bored with the entire situation.

"EVERYONE STOP IT!" Emma screamed.

A gust of wind blew through the camp from where she was standing, panting heavily and staring around at them all. The magic had ripped out of her unexpectedly and without any input from her. Regina had warned her that this would happen if she didn't learn to control it but right now she was too busy trying to control the impulse to reach out and grab the closest person (just to get rid of the painful ache filling her) to particularly care very much at the moment.

The others were staring at her, most of them surprised, though she could see anger building in Mary Margaret.

"Don't you see what's happening?" she said, not daring to move as the impulse built again. "It's the mermaid's curse all over again! Doesn't what you are feeling seem _strange _to any of you?"

She glanced pointedly at her parents who both blinked in surprise. Mary Margaret glanced down at her hands which were balled into fists though unlike Emma they seemed to be out of anger.

"I'm mad," she gritted out. "But I don't know why, I mean this is stupid but I shouldn't be this mad. I want to hit all of you."

She glanced apologetically at David, who looked far too concerned with something else to worry about his wife wanting to punch him in the face.

"I feel like if I don't eat something I'm going to collapse," he said, holding up the last piece of food he'd managed to wrestle from Tinkerbelle when she was distracted by Emma and frowning at it.

"That's mine!" the pixie snarled taking a step forward as if to snatch it back. She froze mid-step, staring at her hands like she did not recognise them.

"Not that it isn't fun hearing you all share your feelings," sneered Regina, not even rolling over to look at them. "But I am _exhausted_, keep it down."

"Pan."

Emma whirled around to look at Hook, tightening her fists (to the point where she was in danger of breaking skin) when the desire to grab the front of his coat and kiss him reared up suddenly inside of her.

"What?" barked Neal, noticing Emma's gaze.

"_Pan,_" he spoke the name like it was poison. "He's trying to distract us, cause us to fight amongst ourselves instead of-"

"Searching for Henry," Emma finished.

"Aye, like telling me about him," he nodded towards Neal. "There was no reason to share that unless he wanted us to search for him. He probably expected me to take much longer to share what I had learned."

"Don't look so proud of yourself," said Neal, rolling his eyes.

"But how?" chimed in Tinkerbelle, her gaze darting around at everyone. Emma didn't miss the slight blush that crept onto the pixie's cheeks when her gaze fell upon her.

"It's like the mermaid's curse," said Mary Margaret looking enraged by the thought. "He's making us fight amongst ourselves over stupid things."

"It has to be more than that."

Regina had walked over without anyone noticing, staring at Emma with an odd intensity. Again Emma's nails but into her skin trying to master her bizarre new impulses. Had the Queen's hair always been so glossy? She wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through – _what was her obsession with hair?_

"That explains the four of you but not the rest of us," Regina gestured to Neal, Tink, David and Mary Margaret, causing Emma to frown. "I don't want to argue with any of you, which is strange in and of itself, all I want is to rest, I've had enough of everything and just need a break."

A break from finding their son? Emma was about to yell at her when she cut her off.

"And I seriously doubt Emma is harbouring any secret passion for the pixie," her words caused Emma to blush.

"We were all saying that different things were affecting us," said David dropping the food in his hands as if holding it any longer and not taking a bite was causing him physical pain.

Emma watched Tinkerbelle snatch it up and hold it defensively to her chest, her eyes darting around at all of them.

And just like that their brief moment of clarity was gone.

"How dare you!" snarled Mary Margaret, taking a step towards the blonde.

"It's mine!" Tink spat back.

Emma panicked, she was losing them. Already David was staring longingly at the food as Regina shrugged and turned to wander back to bed.

"We need to figure out what this curse is!" she cried, trying to make herself heard over the top of the fresh bout of bickering that had broken out.

She stormed over to Regina, grabbing her by the shoulder and spinning her around. She was going to demand she tell them what she knew, or demand that she perform a spell to figure it out but the second she was facing her Emma grabbed a hold of her other arm. Energy thrummed through her at the contact, surging to the tips of her fingers and toes, filling her with such heat that she could barely see straight.

Her lips crashed against Regina's and she had to fight a small moan. Pulling the woman closer she wrapped an arm around her, her hand cupping the back of her head and pulling it to the side, deepening the kiss with the new angle. It was like electricity crackled between them. Sparks prickling the various points where their skin touched. Emma felt the power flooding her system, hers and Regina's, battling for dominance, heightening every sensation. She was so lost in the way her body was responding, the heat flooding her system that she didn't feel Regina's hands sliding between them until they pushed her backwards.

Emma flew back several feet, magic aiding Regina's shove, before crashing onto the ground in a heap.

She struggled to breathe for a moment, the force of the impact knocking the air from her lungs. Her very nerves were on fire, and for a moment Emma could not tell if the pain was from the fall or the sudden loss of contact.

Everyone had stopped arguing and turned, looking between Regina who was staring at Emma wide-eyed, hands still outstretched, and Emma herself lying on the ground.

"What are you doing?" yelled Mary Margaret storming towards Regina and to Emma's horror drawing her bow and arrow.

"STOP!" she yelled, ignoring the way that her entire body was protesting and scrambling to her feet. "It's not her fault, I…"

"You stay the hell away from my daughter!" Mary Margaret snarled, her aim not wavering.

"I deserved it!" Emma yelled back. "I… attacked her first, it was warranted."

Mary Margaret continued to glare at Regina who, Emma thanked God, had refrained from explaining just how she had attacked her. There was a tense moment before Mary Margaret dropped her aim, her eyes screwed closed and her hands shaking with the effort.

"We need to figure this out," she growled and Emma let out a tiny relief.

They were getting back on task.

"Attacked her did you?" Hook's voice made her jump, he had snuck up behind her whilst she was trying to prevent Mary Margaret from shooting Regina; and she could tell by his smirk that he had witnessed the whole thing.

"Something is making us act this way," she gritted back. "Making Mary Margaret so angry, and David hungry and me…"

His smirk deepened as he stepped towards her, invading her space like always.

"Making you what darling?" his tone was innocent but his expression was anything but.

Emma's breathing hitched at his proximity, the heat was radiating off of him causing the burning itching of her skin to increase to a nearly unbearable level. They were inches apart, the smell of him overwhelming her, salt and leather and that ever-present hint of rum and spice.

His lips were quirked in their usual smirk and looking at them was reminding her about how warm and soft they were. She was reaching up to fist her hands in his coat when he was shoved away, Neal pushing him roughly against a tree.

"What do you think you are doing?" he snarled at the pirate as Emma rushed to intervene.

"Cut it out," she hissed, her voice still a little breathy, a fact that was not helped when she tried to shove the two of them apart and heat continued to course through her. "I don't have time for you jealousy right now Neal! I need to figure out what this stupid curse is."

She barely even registered what she was saying, the words holding little importance. She was losing the precious control she had been fighting for before and now was focused mainly on separating the men so she could kiss one of them, both of them, she didn't care as long as she could do it before she exploded.

For the second time in ten minutes she was thrown backwards through the air. It took her a moment to realise that Regina had used magic to tear them all apart. Looking around she saw the rest of the group spread around the Evil Queen and getting to their feet. They too had been thrown back by the blast and Mary Margaret looked ready to rip Regina's throat out with her teeth.

"We need to work out what this is," she said, her hands still held out in front of her as if ready to smite anyone unwilling to help. "Whatever this curse is, we need to get a hold of ourselves so we can figure out who did it."

"Pan," repeated Hook. "It has to have been Pan."

"Right," nodded Emma. "To distract us."

"This whole island is filled with magic," began Tinkerbelle. "And Pan is connected to it. He controls it. But the magic is fading, which is probably why he needs Henry to somehow fix it."

"How can Henry fix magic?" Emma asked confused.

"I don't know," sighed the pixie, shaking her head sadly. "But my point is that he would not be able to use the magic left in the island. At least not like this."

"He has curses though," said Hook, stepping into their tightly forming circle. "Bottled and trapped in artefacts. He does not have many but he does have them."

"How do you know that?" asked David frowning at him.

"Because I was in Neverland a _long_ time," he sighed. "And you don't survive long in Neverland without dealing with Pan."

Emma shot her father a look cutting off whatever he was about to say to the Pirate because they did not have time to deal with lectures about honour and whatever it was her Prince Charming father was about to spout.

"Do you remember any of them?" Regina asked. "What they looked like? Anything?"

"Well he did not exactly give me a tour detailing the finer points of his collection," he replied with a dry tone, and a sardonic quirk of his eyebrow. "I only really know of the two I bought him and it can't be either of those. A shell from the lagoon enchanted with the song of a siren, meant to lure people to their death, and one of the totems of the Picaninnies, which I believe was meant to allow one to enter into others' dreams. Other than those I saw not a one of his cursed trinkets.

"The pouch," breathed Tinkerbelle.

"The what?" asked Regina.

"I saw it once in his camp. It's old and leather with the most beautiful patterns and words inscribed on the front," she explained in a rush, her words tumbling over each other. "Felix told me about it, said it was an old curse, older than Pan even. I wanted to know what the words meant, what language they were in but he didn't know. _Superbia, acedia, luxuria, ira, gula, invidia, avaritia._"

"Saligia," whispered Regina.

Silence greeted her words, Emma looked around at the others noticing blank looks that probably mirrored her own. She had no idea what the word meant, but it sent a chill through her none the less. It was a word filled with foreboding, whispering through the air like a curse in and of itself. This was definitely not good.

"It's old magic," she continued. "A curse known only to a few. But it's powerful. It infects the host with a sin, controlling them like a compulsion and driving them to self-destruction if they don't get a grip on themselves."

"Sin?" echoed Emma incredulously. "You think we've been infected by sin?"

"_A_ Sin," corrected Regina. "There are seven sins and seven of us, usually only one sin will manifest."

"What, like the sin we are most prone to or something?" asked David.

"Not necessarily," sighed Regina. "The curse works at random, latching onto the nearest hosts it can find."

"So how do we get rid of it?" asked Emma.

"I don't know," shrugged Regina. "If there is a counter-curse I was never told of it."

"So what do we do?"

"We should figure out which Sin each of us got hit with," said Neal, speaking for the first time.

"Wrath," gritted out Mary Margaret. She was glaring around at them, breathing heavily as if she had been running a large distance. "I can feel it, burning inside of me. Every time I hit something or scream at someone it lessens for a moment but then just comes flaring back."

"Greed," chimed in Tinkerbelle. "I keep fighting the urge to just take everything you have and leaving you here to die."

"I thought I might have been Greed," frowned David in confusion. "Because of the food before."

"I think you'll find that's Gluttony mate," smirked Hook.

"Well what about you?" he snapped back.

"I haven't been acting like you lot," he shrugged. "Perhaps I was not hit with whatever Pan used."

"That seems unlikely," said Regina fighting a yawn as she sat back down leaning against a tree. "He probably hit the camp with the curse last night while we were sleeping. Seven sins, seven hosts, you must have been hit too."

She leant her head back against the trunk, closing her eyes.

"So what was it then?" challenged Hook, his tone disbelieving. "Because unlike you lot I appear unaffected."

Regina shrugged, "What do I care?"

"Sloth," spoke Emma suddenly pointing to the resting Queen. "You got hit with Sloth. And I think you got hit with Envy."

She turned to point at Neal, whose jealous behaviour, whilst not entirely out of character after the Echo Cave fiasco, was definitely much more intense than warranted. He nodded, frowning to himself before stepping away from the group. David and Mary Margaret were talking to each other a little ways off, she could see her mother snapping at her father and then apologizing repeatedly though still huffily. Regina was now almost completely unconscious resting against the tree whilst Tinkerbelle paced back and forth, throwing furtive glances at all of them. Wrath, Envy, Greed, Gluttony, and Sloth.

"That only leaves Pride and…" her voice trailed off as colour flooded her cheeks, she had no trouble guessing which Sin was coursing through her system.

"I believe the word you are looking for is Lust," Hook smirked.

She turned to glare at him. Of course Captain Innuendo would be thrilled that the curse had turned her into a raging hormone with the control of a horny teenager.

"What does that leave you?" she bit back.

"I thought we'd established I did not get cursed," his eye-brows rose, cockily challenging her to contradict him.

"Well that would have been the Pride talking," she smirked before changing her tone to a pleasantly confused one. "It's funny, you don't seem all that different to me."

Neal stepped between them and turned to face her. He grimaced when he realised what he'd done, shaking his head slightly as if trying to clear a haze before speaking, "So what next? We need to get rid of this before someone gets hurt."

_Or does something stupid_, Emma mentally added.

"Is there a spell?" she turned to ask Regina who looked in danger of falling asleep.

"I don't know," she shrugged in response. "I told you he never mentioned a counter-spell."

"Who never mentioned a counter-spell?"

"My father," sighed Neal after a pause.

Emma turned to face him. He was frowning again, though this time she recognised the pain and fear that had nothing to do with the curse. It definitely made a lot of sense that the Dark One would know. And he did after all teach Regina. Their only hope now being that if he knew enough to mention it in passing, he would know enough to fix it. Knowing the way her luck had been recently Emma wasn't willing to bet much on it, but they had to try.

"We have to find him," she grimaced apologetically, reaching out to grip his arm.

She ignored the impulse to close the distance between them, fighting the pull of the curse as she squeezed Neal's arm, trying to comfort him. When she dropped her hand she let out a breath she had not realised she'd been holding.

He nodded before stepping away from her. She turned to face the others.

"We need to fight this, until we can get to Gold," she said looking around. "The sooner we find him the sooner we can get this crap dealt with. The sooner we can find Henry."

_The sooner I can bitch-slap Pan,_ she thought idly as they nodded their agreement and set off after Neal, the only one who knew where Gold had been last.

All she had to do was fight the urge to jump everyone, simple. She rolled her eyes, trailing after the others. Speeding up her pace she fell into step next to David and Mary Margaret, thankful beyond belief that her parents were exempt from the Lust growing stronger inside of her. She could do this, she thought, she could just stick close to her parents, and hopefully help distract them from their own sins. The others would be a different story.

She glanced behind her to see if they were keeping up, berating herself with how stupid that was the second she did it. He was several feet back, strolling along like he hadn't a care in the world. Her gaze stayed fixed on him for longer than it should. He smirked when he caught her staring, eye-brow raised like a question mark, _see something you like_?

She turned her attention hastily to the front and, ignoring the urge to stop and tackle him to the ground, she marched onwards. They better find Gold soon. She had the feeling that the sin bubbling inside each of them was going to get harder to control the longer they tried to fight it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

A/N: So first of all I am so so so so very very sorry that this took so long. I wasn't getting anywhere for a few days, and then BAM! I was on a roll that would not stop. At all. Like I was writing junk on scraps of paper during work and on the bus and pulling over on the side of the road whilst driving to write notes in my phone. And it kept going and going to the point where I had a lot of words and it didn't look like I would be wrapping anything up anytime soon. So I've split it into two chapters. Firstly so I had something to give you because HOLY COW you guys have been so incredibly awesome and I felt bad not offering anything up. Secondly because reading back through this it actually made a lot of sense to end it here. So… yeah. Plus side? The next part is mostly written now too so it should be up much sooner than this was.

Ok, next up, sweet baby jesus you guys are so amazing. Like holy crow. I was going to play it cool and just be all "thank you , you are very lovely and I appreciate it so very much" but my sister reads this and she'd roll her eyes and make mention of the fact that I was fangirling when authors I recognised followed/favourited my story. It was embarrassing. Thank you everyone for being so incredibly kind, I am actually freaking out. Special mention to AMiserableLove (amiserablelove25) who recommended this one tumblr. WOW. I love you. Thank you.

Right then.

This _is _a CaptainSwan fic, but due to the nature of Emma's sin obviously she's pretty much just lusting after EVERYONE. So thanks for being understanding of the SwanQueen. But fair warning there's a little Pan/Emma and Felix/Emma because f*** the police, I do what I want. ;)

Apologies, the _smut _smut didn't make the cut, it's kind of the reason that things were running so long. So next time my lovelies. There is however some very naughty words in this (my head canon is that Emma is _very _creative with her cussing, but obviously tones it down for Henry).

Hope you like!

They had been walking through this stupid Goddamn forest for hours. Five of them in fact. Five hours of irritated silence as each of them fought to control their own compulsions. It was broken every now and then by Regina letting out a huff, or a whine, or some other wordless noise to let everyone know that she was tired. Thankfully Hook seemed to have taken charge of gently shoving her forward so that she kept moving.

She knew this because sometime over two hours ago she had made the mistake of looking back. Emma had stopped dead when her eyes met him. The sun filtering through the leaves and catching in his dark hair, hand on his hip, head tilted forward with his eyebrows raised nodding for Regina to keep moving. He had glanced up, catching her staring openly at him. His stance emphasised the way that his shirt lay open, revealing a large expanse of his chest and the dark hair covering it, his gold necklace glinting at her from where it was nestled in the fabric.

The hollow ache of her chest had reared suddenly, at the same time as heat shot through her, the combined sensations of desire and nearly unbearable pain causing her to step towards him. The pain lessened slightly, her body recognising its needs were about to be met. He was smirking at her, "reading her" like the open book she was to him.

She barely made it a second step before a hand grabbed her tightly around her bicep and dragged her back almost roughly. She stumbled along turning to meet David's gaze as he marched her forward.

"You don't want to be doing that," he said simply, falling into step behind Mary Margaret.

Emma had been fairly certain that she did. That running back and fisting her hands into that stupid leather coat and knocking the smug grin of his stupid face with a kiss was the best idea she'd ever had. She certainly hadn't regretted it the first time.

She had still been staring at him over her shoulder when David gave her another sharp jerk. Nearly tripping over her own feet she'd spun forward hastily quickening her steps to fall into pace with David so she didn't fall, Wondering why he had to be so pushy. Well if she was being technical, "pully", the way he'd been dragging her along. She'd only been going to go back to _talk _to Hook. And then maybe kiss him. Potentially drag him into that nearby clump of bushes and fu- right. _That_ was why David had been holding her arm in a vice grip. Cursed with lust.

Which was why, hours later they were currently marching along side by side, holding each other's hand in a death grip staring stonily a head. They were taking it in turns dragging the other forward roughly. When David got tempted by large glistening berries that Emma was 80% certain were poisonous she would him sharply onwards, or when Emma unwittingly made eye contact with one of the others and he would drag her away.

Seriously, she'd come so close to jumping Tinkerbelle twice that the pixie wouldn't even look at her anymore. Which was probably a good thing in the long run as avoiding direct eye contact seemed to be key to fighting her desires. But the ache in her chest was becoming more painful the longer it remained unfulfilled.

There was nothing even remotely sexual about holding hands with her father (thank _fuck_) so the physical contact did nothing to alleviate the burning.

Every few minutes, plans for slipping his hold, grabbing the nearest body and fleeing into the jungle flashed through her brain, steadily growing more erratic and reckless. She fought against the urges, her grip tightening each time, like a twitch. David didn't wince or make any show that it was bothering him, the way that she attempted to crush the bones in his hand on an increasingly regular basis. Every time it happened he'd give her a reassuring squeeze back, shooting her a small smile over his shoulder.

It was unnerving, the small quirk of his lips being both sympathetic, reassuring and almost proud. Proud of her strength, for fighting her Sin in the only way she could, for not losing control. She shot him a tentative smile back.

Emma didn't know how to deal with fathers. The few that she had known had shown either too little or too much interest in her, and none of it good. It was easier to deal with affection from Mary Margaret, even though she had no idea how to let her be her mother. Mary Margaret Blanchard had been her friend before Snow White became her mother, but she barely knew David Nolan. She didn't even particularly like David Nolan, she had pitied him a little, a man with no past and no idea how to decide his future. And Charming was a completely different kettle of fish.

At the same time he seemed more understanding of that though. Where Snow tried to show her at every opportunity the depth and range of her love, David seemed to recognize that Emma could only take so much before she was overwhelmed. He didn't push or declare anything, simply giving her a small smile, or a nod, something to let her know he understood and he was there if she needed

.

Emma was not used to needing people, any more than she was used to being needed.

She looked away from him quickly, her gaze falling back to the path in front of her in time to see the small flash of hurt in Mary Margaret's eyes before the Wrath took over. She was fighting it, Emma could see the struggle as the petite schoolteacher clenched her hands into fists and fought to control her breathing and she felt guilt creeping through her at the sight. David had noticed too, dropping Emma's hand and stepping forward to comfort his wife.

They were on the side of one of the small mountains in Neverland, surrounded by tall dark trees, the silence of the jungle almost oppressive. To their left was a small but steep ravine, to their right the slopes of the mountains disappeared amongst the trees and up into the shadows. The small and barely definable path they were following narrowed up ahead so that they would have to traverse it in a single file for a stretch before it widened again.

The group came to a halt, David pulling Mary Margaret aside to calm her. Emma could hear them whispering though she couldn't make out what they were saying. She could see the apology in her mother's eyes betraying her true feelings even as she hissed no-doubt hurtful things at him which were fuelled by her Sin.

"I should lead from here," came Neal's voice as he made to pass her.

She could feel warmth radiating off of him, barely inches from her. Clenching her hands into fists, her nails dangerously close to drawing blood, she screwed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the way her entire body burned.

"And why is that?" came Hooks response as he too stepped closer.

Emma held her breath, trying to tune out every sensation but the sound of their voices focusing on the words to the point where her fists were trembling.

"Because I'm the one who knows where my father is?" was Neal's dry retort.

"And the Crocodile will have remained there, simply waiting?" Hook's tone intimated how very unlikely he thought that to be.

"Well it's a start!" hissed Neal. "I don't see you offering anything useful."

Emma didn't have to be looking at them to know they were drawing closer. She could feel it with every fibre of her being, her very cells drawn to them as she burned to reach out and touch. The sheer agony like white hot flames licking all over her skin, the pain increasing the more she fought it. Anger coursed through her. At herself, at them for being so infantile, at this stupid curse for reducing her to a walking hormone with the impulse control of a horny teenager.

Their voices were growing louder, the rest of the group deciding that joining in on the debate was a sensible thing to do. Emma turned, backing away from them until she felt like she could breathe, sucking in greedy gulps of air.

This was ridiculous, forget the fact that they did not have time for this crap, but any louder and the entire island would know exactly where they are. She glanced down the narrow trail they had been following. It wasn't far before it widened significantly, forming a small cliff-like shelf on the side of the mountain. Neal had told Emma he had left Gold in a tiny clearing near a small cove. She could just see a glimpse of water through the thick clumps of trees, sparkling up at her in the mid-day sun.

"Screw it," she huffed under her breath before yelling to the others. "Shut up! Let's go."

She stormed off down the trail, angrily shoving branches and foliage out of her way, her eyes fixed firmly on the path in front of her. She did not have time for them to be petty, to let their sins rule them. She had to find her son. Maybe if the worst her sin did was cause her to bicker like a four year old she would be slightly more sympathetic. But her sin was a complete loss of control, it was a need-driven hell that was starting to physically cause her pain. And goddamn if she wasn't jealous of them, because one of the worst things her sin was is completely embarrassing.

For fuck's sake she had made out with Regina.

She could hear them behind her, no longer arguing as they hurried to catch up. She didn't slacken her pace, storming through the jungle angrily, trying to ignore the itching of her skin, the way that it burned for her to let the others get close. They were near enough that she could still hear them but it was quiet enough that she shouldn't be able to see them if she turned back to check.

_Goddamnit you fucking idiot!_ She angrily berated herself when she glanced over her shoulder without a second thought. _Great job Emma, just play right into your Sin's hands, freaking brilliant. _

Luckily she had been right, and couldn't see any of the others, saving herself from a potentially mortifying encounter. Actually sighing in relief, she made to continue forward. She would stop in the clearing up ahead and allow them to catch up, hopefully they could keep their sniping to a minimum and she could keep it in her pants from now on.

She walked straight into him, jumping back and letting out a small yelp.

"Pan," she breathed, thankfully coming out as an angry snarl instead of the high pitched squeak her yelp had threatened.

Without much consent from the rest of her (though hearty approval after the fact) her hand flew forward, slapping him so hard across the face that he staggered slightly, the resounding _smack_ echoing loudly in the quiet patch of forest.

Her palm was tingling from the force of the impact.

"And here I thought you mother had been infected with wrath," he said straightening.

Gingerly he touched his fingertips to the corner of his mouth smirking when he pulled them away to find a smear of blood. She had split his lip. The entire side of his face was practically glowing red, an almost perfect silhouette of her hand extending from just above his eyebrow, right down to his jaw.

"Maybe you just deserved to be bitch-slapped," she smiled humourlessly.

His eyebrows rose as he smirked right back at her lifting his hand to lick the blood off of his fingertips and cocking his head to the side. His eyes never left hers.

_Fuck no,_ she thought forcefully as the oh-so-familiar (and now horrifically disturbing) flash of heat shot through her once more. He was a demon, pure and simple. An evil, spineless, manipulative demon with the most amazingly alabaster skin. It looked a smooth as polished marble, stretching over his cheekbones. He was small but strongly built, with a wiry frame and – _sweetmotherfuckingbabyJesus _he is barely past puberty.

Throwing up was a serious possibility right now.

_You hate him, _she reminded herself. _You hate him because he kidnapped your son and cursed you with uncontrollable lust._

She was seriously considering bitch-slapping him again. Just so he could have a matching handprint on the other side of his smug little face. Then maybe he could hit her back, and tie her up. She'd never –

_HOLYCOCKSUCKINGMOTHERFUCKINGSWEETJESUSRIDINGAUNICYCLESHIT._

The taste of bile in her throat made her slap her hand to her mouth gagging slightly as she tried desperately not to projectile vomit everywhere.

"Thinking _happy _thoughts are we?" the smug little bastard spoke, his grin stretching straight into Cheshire cat territory.

Emma had never been more aware of the fact that he was not as young as he looked than right at this very moment. His eyes seared into her, alight with something so much more adult than she could ever have imagined. Heat spread through her, her chest tightening with the sensation as her insides burned. He had done this to her, and not with the way that he was looking at her, no. It was his magic that had her losing control, torturing her with feelings she could not even bring herself to try to understand.

Adrenaline started to overpower the lust as anger coursed through her veins. This was degradation, pure and simple. Humiliating. She was not his plaything.

Her hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword, knuckles whitening as she pulled it swiftly from its sheath. She was going to cut the little shit into tiny pieces and feed them to the flesh eating plants populating the island. His smile (if it was even possible) widened when she pointed the blade at him, not even faltering when the rest of the group finally crashed through the jungle ad out into the open.

Emma didn't have to look to know that all six of them had drawn their weapons the second they laid eyes on Pan. She could practically feel the heat of Regina's favourite fireball glowing in her palm, hear Mary Margaret adjusting her grip on her bow as she pulled the string taut, both women ready to let their ammunition fly at the slightest provocation.

Pan didn't move, his eyes never leaving Emma's. There was a brief pause where they all stood staring, facing off, waiting for someone to make the first move. Then, all at once, the silence was shattered.

From all around them Lost Boys appeared as if out of nowhere. Dressed in dark greens and browns they were covered in leaves and sticks. Strapped to their arms and legs like armour, woven into the fabric of their tunics and cloaks, and sticking out of their hair.

It was like one minute the forest was frozen, the next the trees and shrubs came to life letting out war cries and brandishing rusty swords and handmade spears. Their faces were blackened with soot and dirt, their camouflage working to make them invisible until they were practically surrounding them.

Emma lunged at Pan, ducking at the last second as Felix swung his club at her head. Instead of skewering him like a kebab Emma's blade collided with Pan's own sword with a clang. She used her position bent double to quickly pull her dagger from her boot.

She was no match for him with the sword alone, she knew that only too well. He had almost unlimited time to perfect his skill over the last several hundred years. All she had was a few rushed lessons with David and Hook. Enough to know how to block and keep her guard up as well as what to do with her feet; but master swordsman, she was not. The only reason she'd won against Hook at the portal was that he was not trying to kill her, just defeat her. That and she'd resorted to brawling.

Her knife skills on the other hand would hopefully make up for any inadequacies. She had taken defence courses when she first became a bail bondsperson because it would have been downright stupid to chase wanted felons across the country with nothing but her rapier wit for protection.

Emma lashed out with her dagger, causing Pan to jump back to avoid getting slashed. It allowed her a second to reposition herself, adjusting her footing and her grip on the blades to the defensive posture Hook had shown her. His smile widened as he took in her new stance before giving her a sarcastic little bow, eyes never leaving hers.

She could hear the cries of the lost boys mingled with the shouts of the others as they echoed around her. Pan lunged, taking her by surprise as he went from completely still to a blur of movement in the blink of an eye. She managed to bring both her sword and her knife up to block it, crossing them so that his sword was caught where the blades met.

Pulling with all of her might she attempted to wrench his weapon from his grip by yanking it to the side. He held on, drawing it away as the last second and taking a swipe at her when she was overbalanced. Emma turned, pivoting on her foot so that the blade whistled past her shoulder.

She thought she was doing pretty well, parrying and blocking Pan's strike and making a few of her own. The fact that she was sword fighting Peter Pan was not lost on her. Hell, she'd already slain a dragon, knocked out a giant, duelled with Captain Hook, wrestled zombies and fought a shadow this month alone, so is was hardly surprising at this stage.

But it was definitely not as fun as she'd imagined as a child. Like all orphans who relate to Barrie's tales of Peter Pan she'd spent some time daydreaming about adventures in Neverland. To say that so far it had been failing to live up to her expectations was like saying that Regina was a bubbly and effervescent lady with a slight temper.

They fought their way into the midst of the scuffle, their own duel clashing with others around them until before she knew it Hook was fighting Pan and she was trying to avoid being clubbed to death by Felix.

"You're quick on your feet Saviour, I'll give you that," he smirked the expression throwing the scar across his face into sharp relief as he took another wide swing at her.

Emma jumped to the side, kicking out. Her boot-clad foot colliding solidly with his side, right in the ribs, with a satisfying thump.

"That's a real compliment coming from you," she smiled tightly.

Emma saw out of the corner of her eye Regina throwing herself in front of Tinkerbelle with a yell, momentarily distracted by the way the brunette's body suddenly lit up, glowing brightly like her entire form was covered in a white blue light.

"What the hell?"

She let out a small cry when Felix's next swing made painful contact with her wrist and knocking her sword out of her hand. Shit. Knife versus massive club wielded by a sociopath. Odds definitely not in her favour.

Oh wait, correction: knife versus massive club wielded by a sociopath _who also has a knife._

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered eyes darting between the blade he'd unsheathed (it was even _bigger_ than hers for crying out loud) and the predatory smirk now gracing his features.

Adjusting her sweaty-palmed grip on her own knife, her heartbeat was echoing in her ears slightly as she gauged her chances of not being bludgeoned to death.

Plus side? She was pretty sure the adrenaline was squashing the curse compulsions quite effectively. She hadn't been thinking anything even vaguely lustful about anyone since the Lost Boys had first appeared. Much. Ok, maybe something about the delicious way Felix's muscles bunched when he swung his club. And a couple of errant thoughts about how downright sensuous Regina's lips were when they curved into a wicke -d smile as she hurled spells left, right and centre. And ok, she may or may not have had several rapid, _vivid_ fantasies about Hook and his um… sword.

Emma shook her head slightly, trying to rid her mind of the images like they were an insect buzzing around her skull which was stupid because: a) shit doesn't work that way, b) she was still engaged in mortal combat with Felix and therefore, c) she was _still _backing away from him because she _had _been trying to formulate a plan on how best to fight him before she had been overcome with a haze of lust.

Which is why, not four seconds later, the ground was crumbling beneath her feet as she backed right onto the edge of the clearing. Where the cliff was.

She didn't even have time to cry out any of the numerous colourful expletives that flashed through her mind a million miles a second before she was falling backwards, her hand instinctively grabbing for something – fuck _anything _ – to save her. There was a brief millisecond when her fingers closed around something and she thought she was saved. Then of course that something let out a yell and joined her for the ride.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

A/N: sorry it took so long, things kept happening and then Going Home and I just had to curl into a ball and watch depressing movies and cry and then my sister sent me a ninadepapa fic and I actually sobbed uncontrollably for a solid hour or so in the fetal position.

Something to lift your spirits?

_Disclaimer: I am not Adam and Eddy, I may make you wait a week for updates but I would never make you wait until March._

* * *

Killian wasn't exactly sure how it happened. One minute he was close to running Pan through with his blade, the next, something had a hold of his hook arm and was pulling him away from the demon. He didn't have a chance to whirl around (fully intending to stab whoever had grabbed him) before he was flying through the air into nothing.

He let out an oath, his cutlass falling from his hand as he tried desperately to save himself from what he knew to be a long and painful fall.

The pair of them tumbled down the steep decline, bodies intertwined as they hit what seemed to be every bump, rock, branch, shrub, stick, bush, and stone the mountain had to offer. When they finally rolled to a stop his companion landed on him hard, knocking what little air he had managed to retain forcefully from his lungs. He could feel his brain rattling around in his skull, chest aching as he lay paralysed still unable to inhale. This was definitely going to ache in the morning.

They lay there for a moment, legs tangled, aching all over and trying to catch their breath. When Killian was finally able to open his eyes he saw the tell-tale blonde of Emma's hair in his periphery, her head next to his.

"Are you alright Swan?" he asked gruffly, finally able to suck in a breath as the shock of the impact wore off.

She was silent for a moment as she lay on top of him, unmoving. He could feel her breathing, the rise and fall of her chest mirroring his own where they were pressed together. Panicking for a moment that she'd hit her head and been knocked unconscious, he was preparing to gently roll her off of him when she finally moved.

"Let's not do that again," she groaned, bracing herself up on her elbows so that her forearms were framing his head, her face hanging inches above his own.

He could feel her breath hot against his skin as he lay there frozen, trapped in her green gaze.

"Are you ok?" she whispered, her eyes shifting between each of his.

"Fine darling," he replied. "Compared to being run over by that metallic beast, I'm positively wonderful."

He smiled up at her. There was something off about the way she was looking at him, an intensity that he could not quite place. Remaining frozen beneath her, he waited patiently for her to climb off of him with one of her usual dry remarks.

She was radiating heat, almost every inch of her pressed against him. One of her legs had wound up between his and he silently thanked the Gods that her knee had not landed just a little higher. When she finally shifted, lifting herself slightly off of him, her hips pushed into his. It was only a small increase in pressure but it was enough to shoot a wave of desire straight through him. He actually saw her pupils dilate as she sucked in a gasp of air, her eyes were hooded and glazed with what he now recognised as lust.

"Em-" he began, but she cut him off, crashing her lips down onto his with an almost brutal force.

One of her hands was still splayed on the ground next to his head, the other gripping the side of face, fingers digging into his scalp as she tilted his head to the side deepening the kiss. His hand was fisted in her hair, though he couldn't quite remember putting it there.

It was different than their first kiss which had been loaded, starting off as a challenge; neither of them wanting to be the one who couldn't handle "it". Killian knew that it had given way to something more, something deeper, even if she had been unwilling to admit it. This kiss however was all passion and heat.

Emma let out a tiny groan as she pressed her tongue against the seam of his lips, demanding entrance. And Killian could never deny her anything.

They fought for dominance, as she plundered his mouth like the pirate he often teased she was destined to be; biting then soothing, exploring every inch. He let out a small hiss of pain when she bit down on hits bottom lip, drawing apart and tugging it with her teeth. Her resulting chuckle was a low and breathy sound, until finally she released him, pushing away until she was sitting upright and sliding her legs around him to straddle his hips. Her hands were flat against his chest, her hair spilling over her shoulders, a complete mess of leaves and twigs. The late afternoon lit her up like she was glowing above him.

"What are you doing love?" his voice was like gravel, still out of breath.

Cocking her head to the side she grinned down at him, biting on her lower lip as she leant forward until they were inches apart. She didn't say anything, slowly laying kisses along his jaw and then his neck, biting down on the skin and then soothing it with her tongue. His hand found its way to her hip, fingers digging into the flesh there as she moved down to the area of skin exposed by his shirt, dragging her teeth along his chest.

When her fingers slipped between them, quickly undoing the clasps of his vest, he froze. Emma took advantage of the stillness, crashing her lips to his once more, her hand never faltering as she worked to undress him.

This was wrong. This shouldn't be happening. But Gods the things she was doing to him. She rutted her hips against him and he let out a choked gasp, breaking away from their kiss momentarily before winding his fingers through her hair and pulling her roughly back for another. His vest and shirt were now open, her hand roaming over the exposed skin. Wrapping his hooked arm around her he sat up, her legs wrapping around his waist, hands sliding around his back beneath his shirt and sending small shivers across his skin.

His pants were already uncomfortably tight but when she rubbed her hips against him he cried out a curse, muffled by the crook of her neck where he'd buried his face. He felt more than heard the moan she let out as she nibbled his earlobe, her entire body grinding against him.

The voice in his head telling him that this was a bad idea, _that there was something seriously off about sex in the jungle when they had just fallen down a mountain, _grew fainter and fainter. Its protestations being drowned out by a much louder and more primal voice yelling _she chose you!_ Over and over.

When her hand brushed against the laces of his pants he stiffened, eyes snapping to hers. Her pupils had dilated to the point where he could only just make out the tiniest sliver of green around the edges, her eyes completely glazed over with desire. They were both breathing heavily as Killian awkwardly climbed to his feet (he wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed it but with the way she was looking at him he would have crawled across broken glass just to touch her) her legs slid from his waist so that she stood before him. He stepped forward, backing her into a tree. When her back made contact with the rough bark, she let out a gasp, her hands which had been flat against his chest tensing, fingers digging into his skin slightly.

She slid them down the length of his body, all the while looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes, before unlacing his pants fingers teasing against his arousal.

With a groan he slammed his hook into the tree, embedding it deep into the wood before he took to assaulting her neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her jaw down to her shoulder. Circling back to where he could feel her pulse thrumming beneath her skin he bit down, sucking and biting as if it were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

Killian was dragging his hand down her side, thumb grazing the side of her breast before continuing down her ribs to her waist. He paused when he was met with something warm and sticky soaking her shirt. Emma let out a whine when he pulled away from her, lifting his hand up to see glistening red blood coating his fingers.

"You're bleeding," he frowned, taking a step back to search for the source.

"It's nothing," she breathed grabbing the collar of his open shirt and trying to pull him close again. "A scratch from the fall. I'm fine."

She ground her hips against him, effectively snaring his attention and capturing his lips in hers. The loud, proud voice in his head was yelling quite vehemently for him to listen to her. She was begging him to take her, whispering the most amazingly erotic things in his ear as she nibbled on the lobe. Her hand had slid into his pants, grasping him firmly. His hips jerked into her touch, as she slowly stroked him.

When he grabbed her waist again she let out a small cry, biting down on his earlobe hard enough him to know it wasn't entirely on purpose, her hand slipping as she cringed, her body twisting away from his touch instinctively, curling in upon herself.

_Ignore it_, the voice he was slowly recognising was not his own cried. _She chose you! She wants you! _He was battling with the voice, its influence urging him on, commanding he be selfish, he choose his pleasure, choose himself.

_Just like you always do, _another much snider voice reminded him.

Killian stared at her, really stared. Emma. The one thing in three hundred years that had given him pause, had given him hope. His challenging blonde with all of her walls, her snark, and her mistrust. The saviour, his saviour. She who would not choose him, not now. Always, whether it had been atop the beanstalk in the giant's lair, or in the depths of Dark Hollow, she had chosen him.

_I choose Henry. He's the only love I have room for in my life._

The words hung between them, like a physical barrier he could not see past, a truth he would not ignore. More than just a way of avoiding deciding between Neal and himself. Because Emma Swan, orphan, lost girl, saviour princess who had been sacrificed through a portal for the good of the realm, abandoned throughout her life by those she had loved, had sworn _never_ to do that to her son again. And he had sworn to help her. So he did the one thing that no one had done in her life.

Killian chose her.

He staggered back, pain and heat shooting through him, flashing like a bolt of lightning through his head. Bright light permeated his vision, nearly blinding him as the too familiar sensation of magic flowed across his skin which was glowing a brilliant blue white. It dimmed slowly, until extinguishing completely. With a rush it all came back to him, cursed with sin, fighting with Pan, looking for Henry.

The unfamiliar voice in his head had gone, the one that had been egging on his pride, pushing all other thoughts from his brain with the intent of driving him to self-destruction. Clearly he had broken the curse, the fact that he had lit up like a firework was not exactly subtle.

The last few hours were still foggy in his mind, tainted by the haze of the curse to the point where he was now struggling to remember what the hell had exactly happened, screwing his eyes shut in concentration.

He remembered that they had been walking, each of them trying to control themselves; and he had been prodding Regina along, the Queen's Sloth making her whine constantly. He had argued with Baelfire, _Neal,_ about the Crocodile and how best to find him, Emma had stormed off and they had raced to catch up, only to find that she had run straight into Pan who had no doubt been following the group to see the effects of the curse, to check that his distraction was working.

It was all seeping back slowly, as if he were experiencing it for the first time, no longer tainted by the skewed perspective of his Sin-enhanced ego. Like he had been trapped in his own body, paralysed, whilst somebody else held the reins. Remembering being present but not actually participating.

His eyes flew open when a pair of hands slid across his chest and the rest of the story became clear.

"Stop love," he said gently, taking both of her wrists in one hand and pushing her gently back. "You don't want to do this."

"I _really _think I do," she groaned, ignoring the way that he had a hold of her and leaning in in an attempt to kiss him.

When he lifted his hook, with the intention of using the curve to push her back by the shoulders, he froze eyes locked on the blood covering it, glistening in the late afternoon sun.

He had pulled away from Emma because he had found she was bleeding. And she was bleeding because he had stabbed her with his Hook. He had stabbed her with his hook when they had fallen down the ravine. His stomach dropped to the vicinity of his feet when he saw the dark stain on the side of her shirt and he swore.

When she let out a breathy moan at the sound his eyes immediately went to hers, trying to tell if she was in much pain.

"Emma, I'm so sorry I-"

"No!" she moaned again, locking her arms around his neck and writhing against him. "I like the way you say _fuck_."

It actually took him a second to understand what was happening, that it was Pan's infernal curse doing this. She was so overcome with her sin, with her lust, that she was completely ignoring the serious injury he had given her. _"Controlling them like a compulsion and driving them to self-destruction if they don't get a grip on themselves."_ Regina's words echoed in his mind, reminding him that this was the purpose of the curse, the stronger the sin grew the more dangerous your attempts to appease it would become, until you did something (like ignoring a stab wound) that would kill you.

But how had he rid himself of it?

Shaking his head he ignored that train of thought, it was a question for another time. Right now he needed to help Emma, get them both back to the others so that they could find her boy and get the hell off of this blasted island.

Hastily he re-laced his pants one handed, ignoring the way that Emma – having other ideas – began assaulting his throat, her arms still locked firmly around his neck, entire body pressed flush against him. He tried his best to not touch her as he tucked himself into his pants but she was close enough that he kept accidentally grazing her with his knuckles. Eyes screwed shut he tried to think of something – _anything_ – to distract himself from the way she was arching into the unintentional contact, rutting against him like she needed the friction to live and panting short uneven breaths in his ear.

"Killian," she sighed and he almost came undone.

It had only been a few days since their kiss, and she had plagued his dreams ever since. He could not count the number of times he had imagined her, coming to him, coming for him, her skin flushed eyes glowing as she cried out his name, his true name, coming undone around him.

But it wasn't real.

Grinding his teeth together he reached his hand and hook behind him, firmly prying her arms apart and bringing them down between them so that he could grip both of her wrists with his fingers.

"What are you doing?" she whimpered, eyes widening in panic as she stared at him. "Please, no… I-I want this… I _need _this… Don't stop touching me, don't ever stop."

She was crumbling, trying to break free as he used his hold to push her back gently.

"No," she was begging, her voice still thick with passion as she tried to draw closer. "Please, I can't take it, this _burning_…"

Her voice broke on the last word, doing nothing but strengthen his resolve to beat Pan to death with his bare hand. She was not lying, the desperation written all over her face blending almost seamlessly with the raw lust. It was physically causing her pain not to be touching somebody, her Sin punishing her for not giving into it. He had been too filled with his own ego to see it before, when he had been squabbling with Neal. She had to bodily remove herself from that situation, storming off through the jungle. Not because she was struggling to control herself, as his Pride had led him to believe, but because it was actually hurting her to be so close to all of them without touching. He took a calming breath.

"Love we have to fix that wound of yours," he spoke gently nodding to her side.

"There's nothing wrong with me," she gritted through her teeth, using all of her strength to fight his grip. "Except for having much more _pleasant_ things to be doing."

She'd pushed past the pain, her focus solely on achieving what she wanted, what her Sin claimed she needed. He could barely hold her, at a disadvantage with only one hand and absolutely no desire to do any damage with his hook. Well, any more damage. The effort was draining the last of her strength, her skin which had been flushed red with arousal was fading fast, the blood loss causing her to pail. Sweat glistened on her forehead, some of her hair sticking to it as she struggled against him.

"Emma, darling," he began surprised by the strength she was using. "Not that I don't admire your ah, fervour, but this _really _isn't the time nor the place."

"You didn't seem so against the idea a moment ago," she purred, somehow (he suspected the use of both contortionism and dark sorcery) twisting herself free from his hold, her hand now wrapped tightly around his wrist.

She had stepped forward pinning his limb between them as she held it tight to her chest. Her other hand was wrapped around him and playing with the hair at the base of his skull. She was smiling again, her usually hard expression almost completely relaxed into a contented grin. Because she was pressed against him, the burn she had described was being soothed.

Then of course, siren that she bloody was she started to move against him, attempting to seize his lips with her own. He tilted his chin away from her, so she settled for assaulting the column of his throat. His body was responding to her without much input from him. He needed her to stop so that he could examine her wound, get her up to the others and into the arms of the Prince who seemed the only one capable of deterring her more amorous tendencies.

The presence of her father seemed to act like a balm, as he noticed earlier that thankfully her sin was not directed towards him.

Emma was never one to ask for help, to admit that she needed someone to comfort her, to tend to her wounds, or to tell her that things were going to be ok. She still was uncomfortable around her parents, Neverland having reminded her in harsh fashion that she had always been an orphan. He wanted her to be able to see past that, to see that she was a special and magnificent and as bloody brilliant as he saw her. But it was more than just helping her, he wanted to help David as well.

He saw the way that the Prince looked at his daughter, the hopeless need there to be able to help her, yet not knowing how to do it without setting her defences off like canon fire. Maybe it was the residual guilt for denying Baelfire his mother, for not being able to live up to the father he had offered to be for the young boy so many years ago. Maybe it was the strange new camaraderie that had sprung between the two men. Either way he was glad that he could be of assistance to the Prince, whom he was growing to like.

Letting out a resigned sigh he stepped back from Emma quite abruptly, causing her to let out an almost animalistic growl of frustration.

"Sorry love," he smiled sadly at her, regretting what he was about to do. "But trust me when I tell you it's for your own good."

The confused frown had barely formed on her brow before he lunged, stepping behind her and slipping his arm around her neck as he pulled her back to his chest, applying a firm but gentle pressure.

"What-!" she grunted, hands scratching at his forearm, which was protected by the leather brace that held his hook in place.

He grimaced as his hand wrapped around her middle, gently lowering her to the ground as the lack of oxygen began affecting her. Due to the blood she'd already lost she succumbed to unconsciousness rather quickly, and he loosened his grip the moment her eyes closed. He held the curve of his hook just beneath her nose, pleased be the way her breath fogged up the silver.

He quickly examined her neck, checking to see he hadn't done any unnecessary damage. The hold was something Liam had taught him, a way to render an attacker unconscious without inflicting injuries that were not needed. He throat was a little red from chaffing against the leather of his coat, but luckily it would not bruise.

Satisfied that she was safely unconscious (and therefore free from the Sin controlling her, at least temporarily) he begun work on her stab-wound, gently lifting her shirt so that he could examine it wincing when the fabric tugged against the skin, the blood soaking it having partially dried. He pulled a scarf from his inside pocket along with his flask.

It wasn't a very deep wound, and the bleeding had slowed to a near stop. With any luck, and perhaps a healing enchantment from the Queen or the Crocodile, it would not even scar. The best that he could do for now was to clean it, wrap it up and get her back to her family.

"Sorry Swan," he spoke even though he knew she could not hear him. "You are familiar with the extent of my healing expertise?"

Pulling his flask from his hip he opened it with his teeth, spitting the cork out in a practiced motion before throwing another apologetic look at her face, as if waiting for a response.

"Hopefully your current state of unconsciousness will protect you from the sting."

He held his breath, once more as if pausing for her to answer. When, unsurprisingly, she did not he tipped the flask, pouring a thin stream of rum over her skin, rinsing away the majority of the blood. The rest of it he gently wiped with his scarf, before pressing it firmly to her side. The bleeding had all but stopped but he wanted it covered. Using the curve of his hook to hold the make-shift bandage in place, he began rummaging through the seemingly endless pockets of his coat.

Gods be damned, he _knew _he had rope in there somewhere. Or another scarf. Actually there was an immeasurable amount of useful bits and pieces in his pockets. Spare flasks of Rum, coins, trinkets, small souvenirs from his various travels, various weapons easily concealed about his person, a few maps, and for the love of the Gods a piece of twine or rope.

Finally finding another scarf (he really should try and take stock of what he shoved into his pockets he swears there was something that felt suspiciously like a fork) he quickly wrapped it around her exposed stomach before pulling her shirt back into place.

Scooping her into his arms he turned to stare at the slope they had tumbled down. The very steep, treacherous slope that it would probably be suicide attempting to climb solo, let alone with the dead weight of an unconscious passenger.

"Luckily for you Swan," he smiled down at her. "I do _love_ a challenge."

He wasn't exactly sure why he kept speaking aloud, even less sure why he kept expecting her to respond. It was not nearly as rewarding when she could not answer him with her usual dry rejoinder, tight-lipped smile, or eye roll. He would do better to save his breath, given the hike before him.

Unluckily from him the climb wasn't the worst part about all of this. He was more afraid of what he'd find at the top.

"I am going to enjoy explaining this to your father," he sighed, adjusting his grip before ascending. "What do you think my chances of surviving that particular encounter are, hmm love?"

Nothing.

"Your silence is most reassuring."

* * *

**A/N: hi again. The smut didn't get a smutty as I'd originally envisioned with them not actually engaging in the sex, but the whole scenario kind of ran away from me and then I had some feels and yes. Working on part four (final part) but my dad, brother, other brother and his wife and three kids are visiting in the next two days for Christmas so no promises on a speedy update. Sorry. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: hey there! Thanks everyone for being so patient, sorry for the long wait. Christmas/New Years was mental and I've been working pretty much flat out since. But finally part four is here! **

**I wrote most of this on my phone, for some bizarre reason so apologies for any spelling/formatting/grammatical errors. I just really wanted to post it ASAP so I haven't had a chance to read through it on my computer.**

**without further ado, part four.**

"You ready?"

David glanced up at Regina and nodded, his eyes flitting to the pirate a few feet away. Adjusting his grip he looked back down at his daughter who was lying unconscious on the forest floor. He had a hold of her shoulders, and Jones opposite had a hold of her ankles. Regina was gingerly pulling the hem of Emma's shirt up to get a better look at the wound in her side. Her expression was calm and detached as she peeled away the black scarf that was now dark with Emma's drying blood.

His eyes darted to the Pirate at the sight of the shallow stab wound. Hook was staring at it, jaw set rigid as he frowned at the damage he'd done. Regina flicked each of them another look before holding her hand out, palm down, over Emma's side, brow furrowing in concentration. David barely caught a glimpse of the skin stitching itself back together, partially obscured by the deep purple smoke emanating from Regina's fingers, before Emma jerked violently.

Pushing her a little more firmly to the ground he checked to see if Hook's, well, hook was impeding him in doing the same.

She continued to thrash about, as if trying to sit up, her arms moving to knock Regina away. The brunette did not seemed too concerned by any of it, her focus solely on her magic, so David wasn't worried.

And then Emma was screaming, screaming, _screaming_, so loud and anguished David felt the distinct sensation of his stomach dropping through the earth. They were everything clichéd, blood-curdling, gut-wrenching, glass-shattering; drowning out even Mary Margaret who had started yelling at the three of them to stop (though with much more in the way of creative threats and cursing). Birds nearby erupted from the trees, startled by the sounds. He was frozen, completely unsure what to do, if he should do anything at all.

As suddenly at it had started it stopped, Emma going limp the second Regina pulled her hand away.

She was panting like she'd been running for miles, eyes still closed as David leant over her. When they finally opened he released a breath he wasn't entirely aware of holding. She stared at him for a moment, confusion colouring her gaze, before glancing around at the others. Hook, was still holding her legs down, eyes focused on his grip, and Regina was getting to her feet, shaking out her hands like she was trying to rid them of pins and needles.

When her green eyes finally settled back on him, David smiled down at her, hoping to reassure.

"You ok?" he asked looking to her freshly healed side.

"Fine," she groaned.

He frowned at her a moment longer, trying to determine if she was downplaying any pain she might be in. She was still out of breath but her expression was confused more than anything else, occasionally looking around as if trying to figure out what was going on.

"I told you," huffed Regina, brushing off the front of her slacks.

"You failed to mention the part where the healing spell would _hurt_," came Hook's growled response. He hadn't lifted his gaze from his hand and namesake, but David could see the hard set of his jaw, a muscle on the side twitching from how tightly he had it clenched.

"It happens," she shrugged, tone completely disinterested.

"It didn't when Gold healed Henry," challenged David, not at all pleased with how dismissive she was being, Emma's screams still echoing in his head, his heart racing slightly as the sounds prompted some buried instinct. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through him, the urge to protect, to defend mixed in with his still jumbled thoughts. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on what the Evil Queen was saying.

"Because Henry doesn't have magic," sighed Regina, fixing him with her usual scowl. "Usually those with magic are capable of healing themselves. When a foreign magic tries to work upon someone with power it's treated like an attack. And with no one controlling it, the person's own magic will react defensively, painfully so, but I can assure you the spell was no less effective. I'm fine by the way."

The last part was added with her usual scorn, before she turned away from them completely, apparently bored with the conversation.

"What healing spell?" came Emma's voice below him.

She was staring up at him, completely bemused, brow furrowed as she no doubt tried to figure out what was happening.

"You don't remember?" He asked.

She shook her head in response, eyes flicking to Hook when he spoke.

"We fell down the ravine," he looked over his shoulder, nodding with his head as if reminding her where it was. David noticed her frown deepen at the movement, as if she too saw something suspicious in it, the way he avoided her eye. "On the way down I stabbed you with my hook. You hit your head, so I carried you up to be healed by Regina."

The three of them ignored Regina's muttered "you're welcome" as Emma's eyebrows shot up at the mention of Jones' hook. David could see the shame and regret on his face as he continued to avoid their gazes. At first he assumed it was because of what he had done, but then seeing the way Emma's eyes narrowed into slits as she stared at him, he reconsidered.

She was trying to make him look at her using nothing but will power and the sheer intensity of her glare. Remembering her inbuilt lie detector David's doubts were given new meaning.

He did not think the pirate was outright lying, Emma would have called him on it, but there was definitely something off. He had only been toying with the idea that Hook wasn't telling them the whole story, willing to lend a little trust after he had saved his life, but now he was upgrading to full blown doubt as the pirates restless gaze darted everywhere but Emma. It was like he knew she could tell he wasn't being fully honest, and could avoid her accusing him of such if he didn't look directly at her.

"I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD DAVID IF YOU DON'T UNTIE ME RIGHT THE FUCK NOW I'M GOING TO _SLAP YOU SO FUCKING HARD YOUR TEETH WILL BLEED_!"

Closing his eyes at the sound of his wife's voice he winced every time she swore, realizing that even cursed as she was, Snow meant every word. He had seen enough of Emma and Regina to know you simply don't mess with a mother, his wife merely confirming the theory. He chanced a glance at her, grimacing at the glare she was directing at him. If looks would kill, the clearing would be filled with nothing but their charred corpses, she was so enraged, thrashing against the ropes tying her, Neal, and Tinkerbelle to a nearby tree.

"Whatever is going on here?"

Simultaneously everyone's eyes flew to the edge of the clearing. Reclining against a tree, examining his nails in a bored fashion as if he had been standing there for much longer than he probably had (appearing on a whim and acting as if he'd been present the entire time had been one of Rumplestiltskin's preferred party tricks) stood Gold.

His voice had not changed when the curse had broken, his accent as deep and thick as ever, but every now and then, when he was in full Dark One mode, there was a ghost of a giggle to his tone, the kind that sent a shiver down David's spine.

"I never thought I would hear such unladylike things coming from your fair wife," he smirked. "I'm surprised the noise hasn't brought some of Neverland's rather more unsavoury element down upon you."

"We've already dealt with Pan and his disciples," said Regina with a smile that would have been sweet were it not dripping with venom. The unspoken without any help from you hung in the air between them.

"Well then, I dare say my presence is-" he broke of suddenly mid turn, his eyes catching sight of something behind David causing all traces of humour to disappear from his face, a dark sinister edge replacing it. Upon seeing the pure malice residing beneath the surface of Gold's expression David could fully understand Hook's chosen nickname. He could almost see the scaly green texture his skin had once been completing the image of cold-blooded predator.

"Why is my son tied to a tree?"

His voice was so cold David thought his teeth might chatter, eyes darting back to Neal, Tinkerbelle and Mary Margaret as if double checking they were still there.

"I can explain," he began climbing to his feet and holding out his hand in a pacifying gesture. "Pan hit our camp with a curse last night, we were on our way to find you, Neal was leading us, but the curse was getting too strong for them to fight."

"They're tied to the tree for their own safety," Regina rolled her eyes. "Even Charming's beloved Snow, so don't get your panties in a bunch Gold."

"Not helping," hissed David, sure that provoking the imp was a bad idea.

He was about to continue explaining the curse, and how he and Regina and Hook had broken it (though honestly he had yet to ask the pirate what exactly had happened there, he assumed that it had something to do with Emma, a thought which did nothing to alleviate his nerves) when Emma stepped up beside him.

Her hands were stretched out like his own, and he just assumed it was to keep everything calm whilst she explained what was going on. It wasn't until she spoke that he remembered that she was not cured of her particular affliction like they were.

"Gold," she half whispered it, tasting the word, cocking her head to the side as if seeing him in a new light.

He lunged a second before she did, managing to secure his arms around her middle and jerk her backwards before she could grab a hold of the lapels of Gold's coat and do something he didn't really want to think about. At all. _Ever_.

She kicked out violently, her legs slashing through the air as she tried to shake him off. He very nearly lost his balance, trying to somehow get a hold of her arms without relinquishing his grip on her waist. She was still reaching out towards Gold, who had taken several hasty steps backwards, any thought of his son being tied to a tree gone as he stared in open-mouthed shock at Emma.

"Regina!" grunted David, quickly trapping Emma's right arm beneath his own whilst his left fought to keep hold of her middle. "A little help!"

"I am not going near her if she's as far gone as the others," laughed Regina. "Once was quite enough. I'll leave all of the man-handling to you, thank you very much. I told you we should have bound her with the rest of them before healing her."

Groaning with frustration, he shifted his grip, finally capturing her other free arm tightly binding them to her torso with his own as she continued to kick out in front of her. Snow was yelling in the background, her voice barely discernible over the shouts from Neal and Tinkerbelle, everyone's curse apparently giving them reason to speak up.

Emma continued thrashing violently. He knew that he couldn't hold her for much longer, and he definitely couldn't tie her up with the others, not on his own.

"Hook?" he glanced over at the pirate who was standing as far back as Regina, an oddly conflicted expression on his face as Emma moaned (David now wanted to bleach his ears as well as his eyes) something about loving men in leather and how soft Gold's hair looked.

"I'm not certain I won't be more a hindrance than help," he replied as David managed to stagger several steps backwards. "You're immune to her amorous attention because you're her father, the rest of us are not."

David was certain he was right, that Emma's actions would likely become more fervent If he came too close, but he needed her restrained before she got hurt. Again.

And loathe as he was to admit it (because even though she was a fully grown woman with a son no less he never wanted to ever ever ever have to think about this sort of thing in relation to her. At all. For as long as he lived) he could stomach this sort of attention directed at Hook much easier than Rumplestiltskin. Because that was a horrific mental image it would take a lobotomy to rid his mind of. He didn't have the time, nor the inclination (because the pirate would definitely read too much into it) to explain this to Hook, so instead he simply called over, "I'll risk it."

Ignoring the "you bloody asked for it mate," that Hook muttered as he stepped closer David huffed out a breath. He pulled Emma closer to his chest, definitely not finding a small stab of satisfaction in the way she nearly kicked Hook in the head as she lashed out once more. The smile slipped from his face when she finally caught sight of who she was nearly kicking, her struggles changing direction as she forgot all about Gold.

"I hate to say I told you so," grunted Hook grabbing one of Emma's arms as David kept hold of the other.

David ignored him yet again dragging Emma towards the tree where the others were. He had one hand holding her bicep tightly, the other stretched across to grab the opposite shoulder, effectively controlling where she could lean her head, and stop it from gravitating towards a certain pirate who had a firm grip on her other bicep.

They managed to pull her to the tree, David using his entire body to pin her as Hook fastened her to the others. Satisfied she was secure they both stepped back, slightly panting from the effort. Emma was nothing if not tenacious.

"Now that is dealt with," came Gold's voice as he moved closer, apparently satisfied he was not about to be leapt on. "Care to tell me what exactly that was?"

"Saligia," Regina responded before either of them could move. "Pan hit the camp with the curse last night. We set of to find you, I told them you had mentioned the curse to me in passing. We were going to see if you knew of any way to break it."

"You three seem unaffected," he frowned between them, his eye lingering on David and Regina, almost completely ignoring Hook, not that it surprised David.

"When Pan and the others attacked Regina and I both somehow got cured," explained David. "We haven't really had time to try and work out how, by the time we got the others restrained Hook returned with Emma and we had to heal her."

"A selfless act," began Gold. "Is one of the things that works against this curse. The sins are essentially selfish acts, when you have strength enough to ignore the compulsions, and complete a truly selfless act it is enough to break the curse's hold on you."

David frowned at this, thinking back on what had happened during the fight.

"So when Regina saved Tinkerbelle, and I saved Snow..." His eyes darted to Hook. "And you tried to save Emma from falling, that was how we broke the curse?"

"It would appear so dearie," drawled Gold. "Unless you and your wife have shared a kiss? True love's kiss will break any curse. Except maybe in the case of Miss Swan."

"What do you mean?" David was surprised by Hook's question, and not just because it involved Hook speaking directly to Gold. He knew the pirate was infatuated, and after his confession in echo caves he was well aware that there was depth to the feelings, but did he honestly think it had the potential to be true love?

"If she is indeed infected with the sin I believes she is," explained Gold, his tone slightly uncomfortable as they all remembered what had transpired but moments ago. "Then it would not be true love. Much like when Snow did not remember who the Prince was, if a person cannot remember what it is they love about you, or in this case are incapable of experiencing more than a carnal desire it is just like any other kiss. Miss Swan appears to have progressed to a stage where she is no longer capable of seeing past her desire, to feel emotion enough to experience what love is, merely the sin coursing through her system."

Mentally kicking himself for not thinking of it sooner, David turned from them, striding quickly over to Snow, kneeling before her. If true love's kiss could break the curse he could cure her, he just had to remind her she didn't hate him.

"I know you're mad at me," he began.

"David you have no idea how far past fucking mad I am," she growled, practically vibrating, emphasizing the truth in her words. "Untie me. Now."

"I will," he nodded stoically, determined she see it as the truth. "But I can't until you are calm. I know Snow is still in there somewhere, and that she remembers the curse that is making her act this way, so I need you to find her, the way I always find her."

She was still frowning at him, though she had not yelled and her breathing became less laboured. She appeared deep in concentration, as if taking his words to heart, really thinking about what he asked. When her breathing had slowed to normal he leant a little closer.

"I need you to see past your anger," he whispered softly. "I will untie you, but I need to to be calm, to be Snow. I need you to remember us, but more importantly remember yourself. You know you are not this person, you are stronger than your rage. The Snow who saved Regina from execution, and sacrificed herself so that the entire realm would not suffer for what she thought she'd done is stronger than this."

Without waiting for her response he leaned in capturing her lips. It was soft and gentle, she didn't react with the passion or anger her sin dictated. Instead sighing softly, leaning into him as he felt the now familiar jolt of magic. He opened his eyes in time to see her glow a pearly white as the curse lost it's hold and they broke apart.

Her eyes were filled with the confusion he felt when his own curse had broken, those few moments it took to piece together the tainted memories until you remembered what had happened.

"Hey," he smiled when she finally looked into his eyes.

"I'm thinking we should just make out whenever there's a slight chance a curse is involved," his wife smiled brightly at him. "Avoid most of the unpleasantness."

They both ignored the scoffing sound Regina made as David quickly moved to untie her from the tree. Neal was growling that he should be untied, it was not fair for her to be freed if he could not.

"Please..." It was a whispered moan, directing both of their attention to Emma. Her face was screwed up in pain and she was shifting restlessly as though all of her itched. "Please I need to feel...somebody... It burns... Please."

Snow crouched down beside their daughter, gently stroking the hair from her face.

"We need another way to fix this," David turned to face Gold, trying to ignore the wimpering sounds Emma was making. "It's just getting worse, we can't risk letting them loose in the hopes that they snap to their senses and be selfless. Especially if ignoring their compulsion is causing them pain."

He had not failed to notice the grimaces on Neal and the Pixie's faces. Tinkerbelle was pressing her head back into the trunk of the tree, is if the pressure was helping to erase the pain. Neal on the other hand was bent as far forward as his bindings would allow, his face screwed up as he let out a muffled groan.

"If we could find the original host for the curse," explained Gold his eyes never leaving his son. "Perhaps we could trap the curse inside. I warn you that it's not going to be pleasant for the current hosts."

"What do you mean 'original host'?" asked David, his brow furrowed.

"The pouch that houses the curse," explained Regina. "The one Pan has."

"So we find Pan, find the pouch," said Snow, not moving from her spot next to Emma. "And you two use magic to rid them of the curse?"

Gold nodded, "and we may just find young Henry while we are at it."

"How are we going to get them-" Regina nodded her head towards the three tied to the tree "-to Pan's camp?"

"I can carry Emma," suggested David.

"And I the Lady Belle," volunteered Hook.

"We'll have to knock them out," sighed Snow. "It's the only way we'll be able to do this without alerting the entire island of our presence."

Their plan decided, David watched as Gold walked around the tree pausing before each of them to cast a small spell to render them unconscious. With Emma tucked safely in his arms, Snow in front with her bow at the ready, Hook close behind him with Tinkerbelle, Gold and a hovering Neal following them and Regina bringing up the rear they marched on. Renewed purpose in their Journey to the Lost Boys camp.

David was _really_ looking forward to punching the smug little jerk in the face.

**A/N: me again, hopefully it was worth the wait. there will only be one more part to this though I don't know when I'll be posting it. I'm getting distracted by the two multichapter AUs I've been planning for ages. So hopefully my muse will cooperate and let me finish this before properly starting those. Thanks again for all of the follows, favourites and reviews, you guys are pretty much the shit and I love you.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: so here's the final part of this little whatever the hell it is. I tried to link it back to the canon story-line, tried to end it so that it can continue along with the rest of 3A. Thank you so much to all of you who have read/favourite/followed/reviewed/rec'd this. For realises, you all are the bees knees. **

**Now, couple of quick notes, this originally started off as a way for me to get some CaptainSwan smut via your basic love spell trope but then it took on a life of its own (as these things often do) and I ended up sacrificing smut for feels. And since you were all so amazing about that, I may or may not have created a way to put the smut in, because of REASONS. **

**But obviously that makes this chapter start off as M, so if sexy-times offend skip the first section.**

**Well, enough from me, here it is…**

The heat was all around her, hanging thick in the air, permeating her lungs, her mind, every inch of her blanketed in it. She was awash in a sea of touches, smells and sounds; all of them pressing in trying to claim her attention. She was losing herself to it, letting it consume everything she had.

She was on her back, the sheets course against her bare skin adding to the layers of sensations. It was almost too much, too overwhelming, pushing in on her from every side. _Almost_.

Her legs were wrapped around him, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders, one heel into the small of his back, the other leg tangled with his. Their skin was slick with sweat, their bodies moving together, pushing and pulling, trying to consume. His cerulean eyes bore into hers, his breathing laboured, small groans punctuating his thrusts.

Killian was everywhere, filling her, stretching her, the burn of it too much. It was bordering on painful, but she still wanted more, needed more. She pulled him closer, hips thrusting up to meet his, driving him deeper. His grip was bruising, one hand on her hip, fingers biting into the skin, bruising.

Breathing out in pants and gasps, she fisted her fingers into his hair, dragging his face to hers. The kiss was sloppy, completely overcome with passion and lust, their teeth clashing, tongues tangling, almost fighting to gain control. His hips rocked forward hard, hitting her right there and her vision went white for a moment, the sound coming from her throat completely guttural, animal. He pulled away from her lips, attacking her jaw and the column of her neck with open-mouthed kisses, biting and soothing with his tongue, his scruff scratching against the sensitive skin.

She needed more.

She was aching for him, pushing herself closer, deeper, like she wanted to crawl inside.

"More," she panted as his thrusts became faster, harder, desperate. "Killian I need-"

She almost screamed out, a moan escaping her as he adjusted his angle and she was suddenly so close.

Someone shouted, first sounding distant, then louder, in sharper focus. Killian stilled, his head snapping to where the sound was coming from, his brows furrowing.

"Ignore it," she whispers, arching into him as her hand cupped the side of his face, turning it back towards her.

He started moving again, the pair of them getting lost to the rhythm, kissing hungrily. She was so close, she could feel it coiling in her stomach, ready to spring free, to consume, to destroy. Emma didn't know what would happen if they stopped, she never wanted to stop, never wanted him to stop touching her, feeling her.

The shouting continued, accompanied by the clashes and clangs of metal hitting metal.

Killian stilled once more. "We have to go love."

"No," she gasped it out, almost choking, her grip tightening. She didn't want to go, they had to stay here, they couldn't stop. "We can't, I have to… please, _please_…we can't stop."

Something terrible would happen, there was an edge to the warmth surrounding her, cocooning her. It was a heat that would burn if she didn't keep going, that would consume and annihilate until she was ashes.

"You have to stop Emma," his voice was quiet, the now insistent cries echoing around them. "You have to fight it."

Fight it? Her brow pinched in confusion. The burn was starting, she could feel it, the pain beginning at the tips of her fingers and toes, inching its way along her limbs. What was she fighting?

"You're stronger than it is love," he smiled down at her, pulling away as the sounds became louder trying to claim her attention.

All she could focus on was the increasing space between them, reaching out, needing to touch.

"Let go," his voice was fading, the other sounds reaching crescendo as he pulled away entirely.

Emma sat up with a start, her entire body thrumming with energy, the burning sensation she had been feeling over the last few days screaming for her to yield to its demands. The fog of the dream was lifting, as harsh reality set in. She was sitting on the ground, her arms tied behind her back at an awkward angle with what felt like fabric rather than rope. To her left Neal was also bound curled over on his side his entire frame curling in on itself, his breathing laboured. Tinkerbelle was in a similar position, though still apparently unconscious, her delicate features pulled into a frown by whatever dreams plagued her.

They were on the edge of a campsite, small tents and huts spread about amongst the trees. There were lost boys everywhere, brandishing their crude weaponry as they fought with the others. She could see David and Hook standing back to back, each of them fighting off a group of boys none of which were older than twelve.

Mary Margaret was firing her bow in all directions with a speed Emma didn't think capable outside of a Lord of the Rings film. The arrows were lodged in trees, it took Emma a moment to see that Mary Margaret was missing on purpose, using the shots to redirect the Lost Boys, herding them, until many of the younger ones were cowering in their tents, trying to avoid the conflict all together. She could not see Regina or Gold amongst the group.

Kicking out with her feet she scooted backwards, her arms scraping against the rocks and dirt until she was next to Tinkerbelle who remained unconscious. Laying down on her side she groped around with her hands, straining against the bindings. Ignoring the way that her shoulders screamed in protest from the angle, she let out a strangled laugh when her fingers grazed the hilt of Tink's dagger. Pulling it clumsily from its sheath it fell to the ground.

Scooping it up Emma shuffled further away, until her back hit a tree. Wriggling her shoulders and kicking with her feet she pushed herself to a sitting position, her shoulder slumped against the trunk. The rough bark dug into her skin as she repositioned the small blade slipping it between her bound wrists and twisting it until the sharp edge was against the fabric tying them together. It took her only minutes to saw through, only dropping the knife twice and slicing her wrist once.

Finally freed she clambered to her feet, her thoughts were a mess. She needed to fight. She needed to find Henry. She really needed to kick Pan in his family jewels. She really needed to-

Felix was in front of her, club and dagger in hand smiling his creepy little half smile. She wanted to punch it off of his face. She wanted to do something else with his face entirely. The heat coursing through her veins, thrumming through her entire body, pooling low in her gut. It was too much, it was not enough, she needed to be closer.

They lunged at the same time, him swinging his club and her grabbing at his tunic. She ducked under the blow, the pair of them spinning in unison as he lashed out, pushing her off of him. His expression morphed from confused to smug in seconds, her eyes fixed solely on the way that his mouth twisted upwards, his lopsided smirk becoming more pronounced.

Emma lunged again, not even bothering to try and dodge the way he flicked out with his left wrist, the old but incredibly sharp dagger slicing across the back of her forearm. Stepping easily around her he turned, so that they were face to face, his dagger still raised but only half-heartedly.

A _very _small, very quiet part of her mind (the sliver of rationality that was not completely overwhelmed with desire) told her it was because he knew what was happening, that she wasn't trying to hurt him, that she was attempting something else entirely. _He's toying with you._

A much louder part of her was screaming that it didn't actually matter, he could carve her insides out and she wouldn't care, so long as she could fist her hands in his hair when he did.

She let out a strangled yell, grabbing at him once more, knocking his knife arm aside and successfully grabbing hold of his tunic and pulling him towards her. The pain was lessening, the burn going from acerbic to soothing warmth as she pressed against the heat of him. Felix's breath was hot on her face, both of them panting slightly.

"Sorry saviour," he grinned. "But I don't think you'll be seeing your boy again."

He shoved her backwards putting just enough distance to plant his foot against her stomach and kick out. She fell onto her back with a heavy thud, the little air she'd gained through her laboured breathing rushing out of her lungs. It was suffocating, she was gasping like a fish out of water as the agonizing burn returned tenfold.

He frowned down at her on the ground, her hands clawing at her skin. She was aflame. Everything tensing, her head felt like it would explode, tears of pain escaping the corners of her eyes.

Felix crouched over her, she wanted to reach out, to pull him closer but she could not move, her muscles tightening constricting, she was burning. Emma could feel her body shaking from the strain, past the point of fever, beyond the simple sear of pain. Her insides were screaming – everything _screaming_ – for her to move, touch, join, consume.

"Poor little Lost Girl," Felix sneered, leaning forward in a crouch, his arms resting on his knees. "Pan thought you would be one of the first to break the curse, that you would have your hands full trying to save the others. But who will save you? Who will rescue the saviour?"

He dragged his fingers across her forehead, she let out a small groan, his touch felt like ice, soothing and calming until it left an even greater heat in its trail. He stood, adjusting his grip on his club.

Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, that the pain had reached its peak she was ripped apart. Screaming, so loud her throat felt like it was ablaze as every inch of her pulled in different directions. She was being torn, something ripping from her, excruciatingly slow, her vision going white. Something had hold of her limbs tearing her into pieces. The last thing she saw was Felix, club raised as he prepared to strike the final blow.

When the pain stopped it was sudden, causing her to collapse, completely boneless as she lay on the ground.

Growing in waves, gentle at first and then stronger building like a tide within her skull, memories washed over her, foreign yet familiar. It was like watching a movie of herself, everything that had happened since she had woken from that first fevered dream. She wanted to grab her hair and pull, something to relieve the pressure, but she couldn't move, her strength returning to her even slower than her memories, her breathing laboured and her heart beating so fast it sounded like thrumming in her ears.

She lay there panting for what felt like eternity, never wanting to move again. Every inch of her felt as if it had been dipped in acid and then electrocuted, the acute pain giving way to a deeper ache. But she had to get up, she knew she had to. There was something she needed to do, something beyond important.

Emma couldn't sort through the memories fast enough, the information was hitting her all at once, one thought breaking through loud and clear, _Pan did this._

She was going to destroy that deranged little demon if it was the last thing she did.

The second she thought of Pan, Henry's face appeared in her mind, blocking out all other thoughts entirely. She needed to get to her son, she needed to find him, save him.

Sensing more than feeling someone reaching out to her she shot up, scrambling into a sitting position.

Hook was in front of her, his hand outstretched freezing at her movement. He held his hook arm up beside it, his one palm flat, trying to reassure.

Snippets of the last twenty four hours were still washing over her, blending together into an incoherent jumble of desire and lust now mixed with revulsion from seeing it again through un-cursed eyes. She wanted to push the heels of her hands into her eyes until she saw white, but her arms seemed uncooperative, still throbbing at her sides. She was dizzy, tired and yet so full of energy all at once. It was like holding your breath until you almost passed out, the sudden rush of oxygen making her head soar and everything feel light.

"You alright love?" Hook asked gently, lowering his arms and fixing her with an inscrutable stare.

She nodded, eyes closed, raising a finger in the universal signal for _just give me a minute_.

When she opened them again he was on his feet, his hand held out to her once more, this time to help her up. She accepted it silently, allowing him to pull her into a standing position, only flinching slightly when he moved it to her shoulder.

"It takes a bit of getting used to, but you'll remember everything soon enough," he muttered before stepping away. She was not sure she imagined the hint of remorse that coloured his tone.

"I'm ok," she sighed, turning her attention to what was happening around her. Sparing Hook one more glance as he dragged the unconscious Felix away, she looked for the rest of the group.

The remaining lost boys had been grouped together all of them appeared to be unconscious, Mary Margaret, and David guarding them. Regina was helping Tinkerbelle to her feet, holding her arm as she wavered slightly. The tiny blonde was looking around at them all with an expression that no doubt mirrored her own, confused and bleary-eyed at the same time as seething with rage. Pan was definitely going to be hurting after this, the little pixie was out for blood.

Emma walked towards Gold, who was gently untying Neal and helping him to stand, stopping several feet away from them. It was laying on the ground, made from what once must have been a rich brown leather, but was now faded and worn with age. There was intricate designs tooled around the edges, and as she crouched to look closer she could make out words written in a cursive font woven throughout.

Reaching out a hand Emma crouched down, head tilting to the side as she examined them.

"Don't touch it!" the voice that rang out was unfamiliar.

Emma whirled around to be met with the sight of a small girl, a little older than Henry maybe thirteen or fourteen, dressed in a white cotton gown, curly blond hair pulled back from her delicate face. She was dirty and thin, her cheeks hollowed slightly as if she'd only been getting the bare minimum to eat. Cowering beside one of the tents she had apparently been hiding throughout the scuffle. Her wide terrified eyes were darting between them all, but lingering the longest on Emma.

"She's right dearie," Gold's lilting voice came softly from behind her. "We don't want to risk spilling the contents again."

She glanced over her shoulder, Gold standing a few feet away, Neal leaning heavily into his side his other arm holding tight to his own stomach.

"Who are you?" Mary Margaret's voice rang out, drawing her attention back to the girl.

Even before anybody spoke Emma knew who she was. They were in Neverland, in one of the camps of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, there was only one person she could be. She was surprised however, when it was Neal who answered.

"Wendy?" his voice was gruff, whether from the lingering pain of the curse or from the confusion his newly returned memories brought with them she did not know.

Wendy jumped, eyes flicking to him, still wide with fear.

"How-how do you know that?" she stammered, looking ready to bolt like a startled fawn when he shrugged free of his father's grip and slowly walked towards her. Frowning at him, she shifted from foot to foot, preparing to take flight.

"It's me," he spoke softly, pausing to not frighten her more. "It's Baelfire."

"Bae?" the word came out like a whisper, filled with awe and confusion.

He nodded. Stepping out from her hiding place she moved slowly towards him, eyes darting all over his face, small smile creeping over her features as recognition lit her eyes.

She leapt into his arms, hugging him tightly as he lifted her off the ground.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he set her back down.

"I came back to save you," she replied. "I couldn't bear the thought of you being here alone, without a family."

Emma felt a weird pang in her chest, a sadness filling her as she recognised the connection between the two of them. Neal had told her about his family, before when he had just been Neal Cassidy, orphan thief like herself. When she had mentioned being adopted and returned at the tender age of three he had offered his own tale. Of being taken in by a family with a daughter and two sons, the first family he wanted to be with. He never said her name but she could tell, even then, that she was the first person he'd loved, even if it was the simple innocent love that only children are capable of. When she had asked if they had given him up he'd merely responded that he'd been taken away, refusing to share more than that.

Emma could connect the dots, the family had been the Darlings.

Neal had been hurt and betrayed by his family, his father, and Wendy had opened him up to the possibility of love, of home, much like Graham had done for her. And like Graham, Wendy had been taken from him before it could bloom into anything else.

Conflicted feelings aside (because that was a kettle of fish she wasn't touching with a ten foot pole until she had Henry back) she empathised with Neal, and she was sorry that he too had gone through that.

"Do you know where Pan is?" Neal's question broke through her little reverie, drawing her attention to the present. "He had a boy with him, my son Henry. He needs his heart, the heart of the truest believer. Has he said anything about that?"

"You have a son?" she smiled at him, a warm smile that vanished quickly, Emma recognised the fear there. "I'm sorry Bae, I don't know. I've never met a Henry. I can't tell you where Pan is or what his plans are. He doesn't really talk to me about anything like that. I only just managed to break free when something hit my cell."

Her eyes glanced over her shoulder where a small rudimentary cage made from what looked like bamboo (but was probably some sort of magic impenetrable plant native to Neverland, Emma was having a hard time keeping track of the foliage here) was standing, the door to which was smouldering slightly, hanging open at an odd angle, one of Regina's favoured fireballs having gone astray.

Unease, prickled in Emma's gut, something was wrong with Wendy's story. Her internal lie detector was making its presence known, judging the way the young girl's eyes refused to meet Neal's. She was opening her mouth to speak when Gold beat her to the punch.

"She's lying," he near growled, shuffling a minute step forward. "Where is he?"

"What are you doing?" Neal stood suddenly taking a protective stance in front of her as he turned to face his father.

Emma could feel eyes on her, she saw Hook on the other side of the two men, his blue gaze boring into her. His unspoken question written all over his face. _Is she lying?_ He knew about her so called "superpower", trusting her enough to accept her word on the subject. She nodded once, her eyes fixed on his, warning him at the same time as confirming what she knew. _Don't do anything yet._ He tilted his head to show he understood, his attention returning to Neal and Gold.

"I've carried enough lies in my life to recognize the burden," snarled Gold. "She knows where Pan is."

Neal stepped forward ready for a fight, his anger at his father on a hair trigger.

Walking between the two men Emma turned to face him, close enough that she could be speak without the young girl overhearing her.

"Emma," he began, clearly understanding the resolve on her face.

"You know he's right, she knows where Pan is," she whispered. "But she's not going to tell us anything, she doesn't know us, she doesn't trust us. She won't defy him to help a bunch of strangers, especially if she's afraid of him."

His expression hardened, recognising the truth in her words, "but she knows me."

"I'm not asking you to wheedle it out of her," she sighed, seeing he clearly thought she wanted him to use the poor girl. "Just, take her aside, talk to her. She trusts you, if you tell her we will help her she will believe it. And we will. We can get her out of here."

There was something she couldn't quite place in the expression on his face, an acceptance she couldn't clearly identify. They stayed like that for a moment, both of them unspeaking before he nodded.

"You go and help her get cleaned up," she said to him, loudly this time so that everyone could hear her. "We'll stay here and figure out how we're going to go about finding Henry."

She turned from him quickly, levelling Gold with a glare that cause the protest he was about to issue die on his lips.

When Neal had led Wendy away the others converged on her, questioning her silently with their eyes.

"Neal's going to find out what she knows," she explained. "She's not going to talk to any of us. But we can help her. We need to be ready to go when he comes back. Someone will have to stay here with the lost boys and make sure they don't go anywhere."

As they all began talking, discussing who was going where and doing what Emma slowly drifted away, finding herself gravitating towards a certain pirate lingering on the edge of the group, not really meaning to. It wasn't until they were face to face that she even fully registered he was there.

"Don't want to join in with the planning committee?" he smiled, lifting a sardonic brow to the others who had dissolved into bickering like a pack of four year olds in what must have been a new record for them.

"Not really," she grimaced, feeling the warmth of a blush colouring her cheeks.

She was definitely embarrassed, standing before him awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot like a flustered schoolgirl trying to work up the nerve to ask the quarterback to prom. Not that she had ever done that. It was the line backer that had asked her and when she said no he'd responded with some snide remark about how she was supposed to be easy and she may or may not have hit him with a rage-fuelled right cross getting two fractured knuckles and three weeks of detention (the football coach had it in for her) in return. But this was ridiculous. Damnit she was a grown-ass woman and yes, she had been attacking him like a cat in heat, but she was not some shy innocent. It was just physical lust, and she could look him in the eye and apologise and move on, and find Henry. She could.

Filled with this new resolve she opened her mouth to speak when he cut across her.

"It's alright love," his eyes hadn't left hers. "You don't need to be embarrassed. We were cursed."

Why was it that he could read her so well? She was both irritated and relieved, hating that he was able to catch every flicker of emotion that darted across her usually well masked face at the same time as being thankful she didn't have to struggle to find the words.

As she stared into his eyes she felt a small twinge of guilt. It was unfair for him to do all of the work, to provide both sides of the conversation simply by interpreting the various degrees of her frown. A small voice in her head (the one that was starting to sound a lot like her son, filled with unwavering hope and brash morality) told her that after everything he'd done, to help them, help her, he deserved more than that.

"I'm not embarrassed," the blush warming her face proving that to be a lie. "I was just… I wanted to say sorry. For you know… before. I'm not embarrassed."

"Quite alright darling," he smiled.

She could practically see the potential for some sort of innuendo-laden one liner like a tangible thing buzzing around his head, but he ignored it, resisting the urge to quirk a seductive brow at her. His smile was genuine, bright, and completely devoid of any hidden meanings.

Hook turned to leave, to walk back over to the group and add his usual brand of sass to their _discussion. _She didn't know what made her do it, what made her take that extra few steps and grab his arm, halting him in his tracks. All she knew was that she had to give him more, that he _deserved _more. When he turned to face her it was with a puzzled frown.

"That's not all I wanted to say," she hesitated, licking her lips and shuffling her feet again. If she was bad at saying sorry, then she was fucking atrocious at saying thank you.

He was waiting for her to continue, still standing awkwardly, half facing the others half twisted around to face her.

"It's about when we fell down the mountain," she held up a hand to halt his words. "Let me finish! When we fell down the mountain, and I… kissed you. I wanted to thank you."

His face screwed up in confusion, "thank me?"

"You have to let me finish," she huffed, if she didn't get this out now she wasn't sure she would be able to. "I know it wasn't easy to pull back the way that you did. I was delirious with the curse and I know you probably weren't much better off. But you stopped. You put your ego aside and did probably one of the noblest things anyone has ever done for me. I'm not used to being put first, people choosing me over themselves, I don't think it's happened to me once that I can remember. And I just want you to know that I appreciate it.

"Despite what you do to try and prove otherwise, you are a good man. Underneath all of your leather and guy-liner, and sarcasm, and all of those god-damned innuendos you toss about like cover fire; beneath Hook," her eyes bore into his, willing him to read her the way that he had before, to see the sincerity in her words. "Thank you Killian."

He started at the use of his name, eyes unsure as he stared back at her. She returned his gaze tentatively, feeling a little lost now that she'd said her piece. Thankfully she didn't have to think too much about it as at that precise moment the Neal and Wendy walked back into the clearing.

"Come on," he sighed, the moment between them broken as the reality of what was happening set back in. "Let's go find your lad, and get him off this godforsaken rock."

When he offered her his hand to walk back to the others, she didn't hesitate in taking it, trying not to think too hard about what it meant. It was comforting, his fingers entwined around hers, like a weight in her chest had been lifted slightly. It was a different kind of relief, unlike the way the burn of the curse had been soothed by touch only to increase if she disobeyed. She didn't fear letting go, knowing that when they did drop hands the weight would return but that he had given her a little bit of extra strength to bear it.

He gave her fingers a small squeeze before letting go, the pair of them joining the others in their loosely formed semi-circle. As they shared what Wendy knew, and decided on a plan for getting to skull rock Emma found her eyes meeting his more than was entirely necessary (and without any sort of consent from the rest of her).

When they went their separate ways, him staying behind with Tinkerbelle to watch the Lost Boys she cast one last glance over her shoulder. He was watching her retreat, thumb hooked through his belt loop, small smile playing at the corners of his mouth when their eyes met.

The small flash of heat that washed over her was completely unexpected, and yet so very different from the curse. It was pleasant and warm and entirely hers.

Unable to fight the small smile playing on her own face she turned back and kept walking.

She had to focus on Henry, nothing was more important than finding her son right now. But as they set off for Skull Rock, walking in silence she couldn't help but think about after. After they found him, after they were home in Storybrooke.

He had told her that that was when the fun would begin, and she now had a strong idea of just what that fun would be like.

**A/N: Me again! Hopefully everything made sense. I wanted to slip a little Neal stuff in there, not because I am endorsing Swanfire, because NO; but I have this weird protective feeling for Neal, or more for MRJ, because he is a fantastic actor and has had nothing happen to him character-development wise lately and there are so many opportunities for him to grow into the sort of person that Emma could have as a friend, as the father of her child with platonic BroTP feels. So yeah, just thought the Wendy stuff would be nice. **

**But now that this is finished I'm going to start posting the two AU multi-chapters I've been working on. One is a Noir mystery, the other a lieutenant duckling take on Swan Princess. So if you're into that sort of thing, stick around. **

**Thanks again for reading, and for putting up with my increasingly long A/Ns.**


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